Starting Over
by DramioneLurver
Summary: When Hermione Granger went to hang out with her Muggle best friend over the summer after her 5th year at Hogwarts, she did not expect to see Draco Malfoy. DMHG
1. Of Mental Lists and Meeting Friends

**A/N: Behold my oldest fic, written in the dark hours of sophomore year, and only recently revamped! Well, I've been trying to work with this fic a bit to make it more in character and less cliché and all that, so we'll see how it goes. Telling me what you think is always appreciated!**

**Disclaimer: We all know JKR still has Harry and the rest of the characters locked up in her basement…**

_As the sun peered into a bedroom window, it cast its light and warmth upon an exquisitely carved wooden desk where stacks of books, quills, and rolls of parchment lay. A matching dresser resided in the shadowed corner, its beautiful door of purple heart wood kept the possessions of the girl still lying asleep under the violet covers of her queen sized bed, which held the attention of the whole room. As time crept by, feet fell upon the comfort of the pale white rug by the bed and a shadow appeared on the lavender walls. As gentle hands thrust open the soft, white curtains, leaving only a thin veil of purple to separate the room from the sun's gaze, light filled the room, followed by a soft gasp from the bed._

Responding to a light tapping sound on my bedroom door, I twisted in bed and reluctantly allowed my eyes to flutter open. As I did, they were temporarily blinded by the morning light, and my ears strained to hear what my mother was saying. Confused, I mumbled, "What was that?"

Hearing my door crack open, my mother's face revealed itself as she spoke again..

"Dear, you'll need to get up soon. Don't you remember? You and Emily made plans today…"

With that I jumped out of bed in a panic, shooting my eyes towards the clock on my nightstand. It was already 8 o'clock! I couldn't believe I had slept in so late. Thankfully, Emily classified sleep as one of her favorite pastimes, so we had decided to meet at 9 o'clock, meaning I had plenty of time to shower and eat and otherwise prepare to go out for the day. Perhaps I could even still fit in that second act of _The Merchant of Venice_. I could hope. After all, venturing too far from the list always put me behind, and I hated being behind.

Quickly tucking my sheet into its place between the wall and my bed (a task I always struggled with), I yanked over my comforter and threw my pillow on the floor for the moment as I mentally compiled a list of things I needed to get done before leaving the house.

_Feed Crookshanks._

_Take a shower._

_Get dressed._

_Eat breakfast._

_Load the dishwasher._

_Put in a load of laundry._

_Stash away any wizarding items._

_Read The Daily Prophet._

_Read Act II._

_Pick traveling book._

_Clean out bag._

_Pack said bag._

_Make sure to bring wand._

_Make sure to bring wallet._

_Buy more gum on the way to the park._

I let out a slow breath as I plumped my pillow and again laid it at the head of my bed before scurrying to my drawers to pull out some clothes for the day. After selecting a pair of jeans and the closest shirt, I threw them and a pair of socks on my desk chair and retreated to my bathroom. Before jumping in the shower, I refilled Crookshanks' water and food dishes, mentally marking off an item from my list.

Five minutes later, I returned to my room in my bathrobe, furiously brushing my teeth as I walked. I stopped brushing and clamped my jaw down on my toothbrush to keep it stationary as I shed my robe and donned my pants and shirt. Tossing my robe over my shoulder, I started brushing again as I slid into the bathroom. Once spitting in the sink and rinsing my mouth thoroughly, I placed my robe on its hanger and bent to shake my towel through my hair. After a few seconds, I flipped my hair back over and looked at myself in the mirror. Frowning at my mess of hair and the way it dripped all over my clothes, I grabbed my brush and jumped into the battle as I strolled down the hallway, another two boxes receiving little checkmarks.

Greeting my mother good morning as I entered the kitchen, I filled a cup with milk just as I finished with the many knots my hair managed to store. Once peeling the mass of wet junk from my brush and throwing it in the trash, I turned around to see my mother handing me a bowl full of oatmeal.

"Thanks, mum," I said with a smile as I picked up my book from the counter and took the hot bowl from her.

Sitting down at the table, I let my breakfast cool for a bit as I pulled my hair into a tight bun and put on my socks. My parents had bought me striped socks once, thinking I wouldn't care anymore, but the colors still bothered me. They were so… loud. And bordering on annoying. They tell me stories about how I never liked any socks that were colored or patterned or even slightly non-white. I didn't know why I would only wear white socks, but it didn't bother me. After all, who needs colored socks? Needless to say, the striped socks still sit at the bottom of my sock drawer, practically as new as the day they were bought (after all, I only wore them once).

"What are you guys planning to do today?" Mum asked conversationally as she added some honey to her tea.

"I'm actually not sure," I replied honestly as I sipped my milk. It wasn't that I didn't like tea (I was actually quite fond of it), but milk was so much more relaxing in the mornings. For me, that is. "Em's bringing some friends of hers along, so we'll probably just stay at the park, maybe go into town for a while."

"Sounds nice," she responded. A comfortable silence surrounded us as we both enjoyed our breakfast and books. Dad was still in bed asleep of course, since it was Saturday and he had the day off work.

I glanced at the clock above the oven to find it already a quarter past eight. Leaving a spoonful or two in my bowl, I emptied it onto the sink and placed it in the dishwasher along with my spoon and cup. Two more not-so-empty boxes. Picking back up my book from the table (I had only gotten through scene 3 during breakfast, so I needed to finish it up, perhaps while cleaning my bag), I went back to my room.

By the time 8:45 had rolled around, I had filled eight more mental boxes with checkmarks. With a quick charm to make my copy of The Daily Prophet look like a normal newspaper to any passing Muggles, I slid my wand into the hidden slip my mother had sewed onto my bag specifically for this purpose as a Christmas present my first year at Hogwarts, patting the outside pocket to reassure myself that my wallet was already packed. As I left my bedroom, I looked back, making sure I had everything I needed and everything was in its place before shutting the door.

"I'm heading out, Mum," I called into the kitchen. Then, a thought struck me, sending me back towards her. "Hey, Mum, do you have any gum? I'm out."

"Sure," she replied. "There should be some on the shelves next to the spices."

"Thanks."

"Have a good day, dear," she said as I gave her a kiss on the cheek.

"I will, Mum," I assured her. "I'll be home before dinner."

With one last glance backwards, a touch of my hidden wand to make sure it was there, and the mentally marking off of the remaining empty boxes on my list, I headed out the door.

The park wasn't that far from my house and it was within my view in no time at all. I scanned the area to find some little children at the playground, some ladies playing tennis, and a couple of guys playing some one-on-one basketball. A frown found its way onto my face. But it was quickly replaced by a grin when I saw another figure sitting on the lawn in the shade of a big oak tree while laughing at the boys on the court. Thinking to myself that these must be the other two people I would be spending most of the next two months with, I studied them closely. The two boys looked relatively alike. Both seemed athletic and strong, standing around five foot nine with rather long hair and fair skin. However, the only difference between them stuck out like a sore thumb: one had hazel brown hair while the other's was so blond it seemed almost white.

Encased in my thoughts, I hadn't noticed someone sneaked up and grabbed me from behind.

I gasped while turning around to see the familiar face of Emily laughing. I joined her laughter and we hugged each other, happy that summer had arrived and we could hang out again.

We separated and took a good look at each other.

"Looking good!" we chanted simultaneously with grins on our faces.

We continued chatting idly while walking back to the basketball court, where the two boys were still playing, unaware of anything around them until Emily ran and stole the ball while I started heartily laughing again. Somehow the ball ended up rolling towards the tennis courts, so the boy with the white-blond hair went chasing after it.

Emily, now smiling from ear to ear, grabbed me and pulled me closer to the court to introduce me to the brown-haired kid still standing there.

"Hermione, this is Eric," Emily stated, using gestures like she always does when she talks. "Eric, Hermione, but I usually call her Mia." She giggled. "Don't ask."

"Hey, Mia," Eric smiled playfully, holding out his hand. I shook it, returned the smile, and replied, "Hey. Nice to meet you."

"Oh yeah, and over there…" Em pointed to the white-blond boy. For some reason, he stood motionless, with the basketball in his hands, just staring at us. Actually, it looked like he was staring at _me_. I shifted nervously with this knowledge, even though I didn't know why.

"… is Draco."


	2. Of Gawking Idiots and Personal Space

**Disclaimer: I have recently decided that I want Sark, Spike, and Draco to all be mine. But just because I've decided so doesn't mean that they aren't really still the property of JJ Abrams, Joss Whedon, and JKR.**

**Evil people. Didn't their mothers ever tell them to share?**

**Guess not.**

**A/N: And the revamping continues! As you can probably guess after reading this chapter, the POV changes from Draco to Hermione with every chapter and will do so for the entire fic. However, the chapters themselves **_**will **_**get longer… promise. I love hearing your thoughts!**

When I started coming back with the basketball I saw another girl talking with Eric and Emily and knew she was probably Emily's friend that we were supposed to meet today. I looked at her again as she laid a protective hand on her bag. Somehow I recognized her.

Was it from that weird dream I kept having? All I remembered about it was shades of purple and a girl with chestnut brown hair. This girl's hair was tied up on her head, so I couldn't really tell what it looked like. It could have been this girl. How strange would that be! Dreaming about a girl I happened to be meeting among a couple of Muggles?

But then I heard laughter. Her laughter. And I knew it. I recognized it. Not from any dream either.

It was Granger.

Oh, no, she saw me staring. As her eyes filled with shock and her mouth fell slightly open, I knew she had recognized me as well.

What was that Mudblood know-it-all doing here? Was _she _the girl that Eric had insisted I spend time with today? It was bad enough that he had yanked me into playing nice with his other girlie friend yesterday, but now I had to deal with her best friend – who just happened to be Granger. Of course she would have to go and ruin my plans to just relax and forget about the rest of the world. Somebody up there thought this was hysterical, didn't they? Turning my face to the sky, I glared darkly. The universe hated me.

Was I really supposed to pretend that I don't know her just so we wouldn't let Eric and Emily know we were wizards? Well, I guess Granger was a witch… but, whatever.

I knew the answer to that question – of course I was. Our unwilling interaction didn't matter when balanced with the secrets of the entire wizarding world. Well, for today at least. There was no way I would be spending my entire summer coexisting with _her_. But until I could find a way out of it, I had to act like nothing was wrong. With this thought in mind, I erased the surprise in my expression and continued back to the court, shooting a look at Granger that I hope would make her realize that she had to pretend she didn't know me. And stop gawking like an idiot.

Luckily, the others didn't notice the looks of surprise, recognition, and pure hatred on our faces. When I reached them, Eric teased, "What took so long, mate? You missed introductions. This is Hermione, but Em here calls her Mia."

I raised my eyebrows at the mention of Granger's nickname, but then held out my hand, daring her to not touch it.

"Mia, eh?" I asked with a smirk.

"Yeah," she replied, slightly red. Emily and Eric would probably assume the color grew from embarrassment or her just being shy, but I could see the frustration building behind her eyes. Then, noticing my outstretched hand, she awkwardly shook it. I stood staring at her while she seemed preoccupied with her hands. A smirk tempted my lips when I noticed that her jaw was tightly clamp shut.

Blinking repeatedly to focus back at the scene unfolding in front of me, I returned my eyes to Eric's as I threw him back the ball.

"Does the arrival of these girlies mean our game is over?" I inquired, trying to act casual.

"We can join you!" Emily insisted eagerly. I rose my eyebrows in doubt. Not only were the two girls a good head shorter than both of us, but they were both rather thin (and I wasn't going to think about Granger's figure any longer) and I didn't particularly want to get upfront and personal with Granger while trying to steal the ball or block her from passing. I may not have been playing the game for very long, but I already knew that personal space flew out the window on the court.

"I'm not big on basketball," Granger remarked off-handedly, not quite fully there. Her brain seemed to be miles away, probably imagining curses and hexes to throw at me as soon as Eric and Emily turned their backs.

"We can always do something else," Eric suggested. "Draco and I can finish our game later, right?"

"Yeah, of course," I replied, looking anywhere but at Granger. Maybe if I pretended she wasn't there, she'd actually disappear! Or maybe I could ditch, tell Eric I had plans. Perhaps I could just treat Granger like I normally would, without all the references to school and her friends. There were plenty of people on the planet that didn't get along right off the bat.

Unfortunately, Eric probably wouldn't appreciate that, especially since insulting my friend's friend's friend – who I wasn't supposed to know – would have absolutely no foundation in either Eric or Emily's eyes.

For the first time since meeting up with Eric again, I cursed my determination to escape the Manor via my old Muggle friend. It certainly wasn't turning out the way I expected.


	3. Of Colored Clothing and Hidden Wands

**Disclaimer: Well, I asked Santa for Harry Potter for Christmas… but he didn't come through. It's truly sad. He wrote me a letter back about how stealing is bad and not very in the spirit of giving… -sigh- So Harry Potter is still JKR's.**

**A/N: Thank you all for reading! I especially love your reviews. They really make me feel all happy and giddy.**

**And a note on the revamping of this chapter… Well, the end here turned out a bit dirtier than I had originally planned… -giggle- But I think it's funny. Do you?**

I couldn't believe Draco Malfoy was standing in front of me. This was suppose to be summer, a time for a break away from him and everyone and everything else at school. And I had to spend it with _Malfoy_? Was he _stalking _me? Did he dream up ways to make my life that horrible? This was supposed to be my time with Emily!

How did he know Em anyway? Oh, yeah, Eric. Wait, Malfoy associated with Muggles? That was shocking. Mind-boggling, really. Like something out of a nightmare.

I looked up to make sure I hadn't imagined his face. No, unfortunately not. But why was had he been staring at me? It unnerved me. Risking another glance, I noted that he wasn't staring at me anymore. Actually, he was looking anywhere _other_ than me. With the knowledge that I wouldn't have to meet his eyes, I took the time to study him.

Sure enough, the boy before me was Draco Malfoy, Slytherin, stuck-up, arrogant, cowardly prat who strived to make life miserable for everyone he didn't like, including me. And now he was not a meter away from me, promising to ruin my entire summer. Or at least the first half. Every inch of him filled me with disgust, from his signature blindingly blond hair to the grossly sweaty t-shirt and shorts that looked so unnatural on the boy I was accustomed to seeing in black school robes. It was no wonder that I didn't recognize him at first glance – when had I ever seen Draco Malfoy wear any color at all (excluding his house-colored ties and Quidditch robes, that is), much less light blue and bright red? And I _really _didn't need to be exposed to his pale legs.

Why did the world hate me?

My mind still reeled with a righteous anger at the world and fate when Emily poked me in the arm.

"You all right?" she questioned, giving me a curious look.

"Yeah," I answered after a beat, putting up a painted smile. In all reality, I fought the deep urge to yell at the slime in front of me, or storm off, or demand he leave, or pout at the unfairness of it all.

Then I took a deep breath, caving into the desire to let my eyes flutter closed as I did so, demanding myself to relax and think things over calmly and rationally. But that was a bad idea. Once I forced the anger away, I realized how exceedingly awkward this situation was. How was I supposed to act all normal with Emily when I was around _Draco Malfoy_?

Even thinking about it crunched eyebrows. If I had spoken the words, I'm sure they would have sounded more foreign from my lips than a dead language.

"… don't you, Mia?" Em asked. Opening my eyes, I twisted my head and blinked a couple of times as I looked at my long-time friend.

"Sounds great," I agreed, not wanting to sound like an idiot in front of Eric and Mal– in front of Eric.

"If we're going to be waltzing around town," Eric began, swaying to the side to avoid the attack of Emily's elbow to his side for the way he described her plans, "we probably should ditch the basketballs somewhere."

"Yeah, that's a good idea," Emily agreed as I nodded my head, wanting to keep up the act that I knew what was going on. "We could drop it off at someone's house."

"Who lives closest?" Malfoy asked, voice still sounding a bit weird without the venom.

"My house isn't far," Eric suggested. "But I don't know where Mia lives."

Not wanting to let Malfoy know where my house was at (I certainly did not want that information in the hands of a Slytherin – whether he was acting out of character and gallivanting around with Muggles or not!), I looked towards Emily, who knew the location of both homes.

"Eric's is closer," she confirmed. Only after we headed down the path did I realize that Malfoy had slyly avoided discussing where he lived. Well, well… the snake has some smarts.

Speaking of snakes, the Slytherin sent me a strange glance, raising his eyebrows swiftly while tilting his head ever so slightly, before strolling ahead of me to walk next to Eric. Immediately, my guard shot up, hand finding the tell-tale bump of my concealed wand on the top of my bag as my mind tried to figured out if Malfoy had been threatening me or not.

Then another thought hit my brain. If I had brought my wand with me amongst my Muggle friends, surely a pureblood would do the same. Malfoy wasn't an idiot (well, he _was_, but he had a brain and all). I couldn't imagine he ever parted with his wand.

But where did he store it? Being female really helped with the issue of carrying things around – bags and purses were popular and widely available. But not only did guys not bring along bags (though that mental image of Malfoy hanging a guy purse over his shoulder threatened to fold me in half with the giggles), Malfoy wasn't holding anything. My eyes darted to his person, searching for a possible hiding spot.

"So, what'd you think?" Emily questioned, nudging my arm as we walked.

"Of what?" I replied distractedly, still focusing on Malfoy's figure in front of me. His light blue t-shirt had short sleeves, so probably not there. Those shorts were a bit baggy, with plenty of room to hide a wand in a large pocket. Guy pants always seemed to have bigger pockets than girl pants. Like with my jeans. I couldn't even fit my whole hand in my pocket! But I was getting off topic.

"Of Eric and Draco," Emily explained, tone telling me it should have been obvious.

"Oh," I responded, still not paying attention, tilting my head to the side as I examined Malfoy's pants. It didn't _look _ like he had a wand in either pocket. "They seem nice."

"Nice looking, you mean?" Emily asked, voice insinuating something I did _not _want to think about when within five meters of Draco Malfoy. Sure enough, when I spun to face her, she had a sly, teasing, _inappropriate _expression plastered on.

"What? No!" I protested, glancing back to the two guys in front of us to make sure they hadn't heard me before quieting my voice and continuing. "I wasn't even thinking about that!"

"Oh, please," Em retorted, not believing me for a moment. "You were just checking Draco out two seconds ago."

Resisting the temptation to mock puking, my face still contorted with disgust as I insisted, "I was not!"

"You were, too," she sang with twinkling eyes and a broad smile.

"Was not," I repeated stubbornly. Because I wasn't. I was just looking for his wand!

Okay… that sounded really weird.

"Fine, you weren't," she relented. "Stop pouting."

"Told you," I proclaimed, not immaturely sticking out my tongue like I wanted to.

"Except you totally were!" she exclaimed loudly before running ahead of me and dropping an arm over both of the boys' shoulders. Sighing, I was determined to forget about the past few seconds. I really didn't need Emily's embarrassing and awkward (and _mistaken_) idea to pop up when Eric and Malfoy were actually listening.

But maybe I shouldn't think about Malfoy's wand anymore or whether or not he was keeping it in his pa—

Yeah, I wasn't going to even think about that anymore. I didn't care anyway. Malfoy could keep his wand all to hims—

Okay, not thinking about anything that has to do with Malfoy. Or wands. Or pants.

Oh, Merlin.


	4. Of Muggle Money and Crushing Feet

**Disclaimer: JKR rocks my socks. She might as well own my socks, since she owns all that is precious to me anyway. Okay, just Harry Potter, so it's not everything, not quite. I still have my family and friends and laptop and books… do you think she'd accept a trade of my friends for Harry Potter?**

**A/N: A big hug and giant thanks to all my readers! And an extra thanks for my reviewers. And the revamping continues! This one was fun! Don't you guys think so?**

On the short trip to Eric's house, the conversation stayed light and casual. Emily brought up the subject of which movie we wanted to watch before lunch, but neither Granger nor I knew of any of the films currently playing and Eric had only heard of some 'action-packed' film. In the end, we jointly decided that our movie choice would have to wait until we arrived at the cinema and looked at those available.

Quite frankly, I had no idea what was being discussed for the duration of the conversation. After all, the grand total of the number of Muggle films I could name was… well, zero. I'd never even seen a film at a cinema.

After leaving the basketball at Eric's house, the four of us headed in the opposite direction, our destination being general and unspecific. Emily had suggested that we simply walk around town for a while, so the next hour or so was spent walking the streets, occasionally going into a store or stopping at a window. I didn't exactly know what to do around Granger, and I figured she felt the same way since she kept avoiding addressing me or even acknowledging me. Rather quickly, I discovered an easy solution – I didn't talk to her, and she wouldn't talk to me. Emily and Eric probably noticed this, as they kept giving us strange glances and urging us to talk to one another.

Except I wasn't exactly ignoring her. Somehow I couldn't resist sneaking looks at the girl who seemed so different than the Hermione Granger I knew from school. She was so happy and care-free. The way she carried herself and how she acted was different than anything I'd ever seen her do before. Time was killed with friendly conversation, and I learned a little more about the life my classmate had away from school. She seemed to play by a different set of rules, where having fun and being silly was not on the list of sins (at least, not if the fun was legal and the silliness at a minimum; she still scolded Emily shouting for in a store and rolled her eyes at the goofy faces Eric was drawing on the doors after blowing on the glass). It was bizarre to see the differences.

Of course, this all changed whenever I talked or her attention was drawn to me. Then she would scowl, divert her gaze, and change the subject. That was both amusing and mystifying.

But then we arrived at the cinema, and I was hit with a sudden realization that had me mentally cussing. As the other three studied the titles displayed on the board, my eyes fixed on the numbers displayed below, informing customers how much a ticket cost.

Let's just say it wasn't in Galleons.

Only so many options were open to me, and one – although unappealing – did seem the simplest and most logical. But it would required breaking the unofficial ignoring rule.

Well, it wasn't like I was actually ignoring her anyway.

Slyly sliding from Eric's side to go around behind the three of them to reach Granger, she shot me a confused, inquisitive look as I stood by her side.

"Granger," I muttered under my breath, not wanting Eric or Emily to hear me.

"What, Malfoy?" she whispered harshly back after checking on the two Muggles to make sure they didn't hear us. "What do you want?"

"I don't have Muggle money," I admitted, keeping my eyes focused forward, not wanting to even see her reaction.

Fudge and honey, my resolve needed some work. But to my surprise, the reigning emotion on Granger's face was amusement.

"Seriously?" she asked, grin spreading from ear to ear. "You're asking me for money?"

"I'll pay you back!" I insisted. I didn't need _her _money. I just needed… her… Muggle money. "I have _money_, just not…"

"Pounds," she finished, nodding in understanding.

"That's what it's called?" I inquired, eyebrows meeting in curiosity. She nodded, and I found it strangely funny.

"Like Knuts is any better?" she retorted.

"Fine, can I… borrow some?" I questioned, still uncomfortable needing to borrow money of all things from Granger of all people.

"Fine," she agreed, pressing a few paper notes into my hand. Not expecting that, it took me a few seconds to respond and take the money, slipping it into my pockets and shaking off the weird sensation that had shot through me when I had first felt her hand touch me.

"Aren't you going to thank me?" she asked saccharinely, probably expecting me not to. To tell the truth, I really didn't want to. I didn't thank Mudbloods like herself. But she did help me out… and if I wanted to keep any sort of calm in the group, I would have to give her what she expected.

Grudgingly, I uttered the words, sending her a glare in response to her surprise before slinking back over to Eric.

By some stroke of good fortune, I managed to avoid talking to her until the beginning of the film, when silence was required. And though it was a brand new experience, and one that I found myself rather enjoying, I annoyingly found that my mind wasn't exactly focused on the characters on the screen as much as centering on the girl three seats down.

Afterwards, Eric and Emily led us in conversation revolving around the plotlines and exciting action and exhilarating twists of the film over to a restaurant downtown. All this time, thoughts were streaming through my head at full blast.

By the time we entered what ended up actually being an ice cream parlor (though they did serve sandwiches as well), one of those thoughts that had been twirling within my mind pulled to the front, demanding attention. As far as Eric and Emily knew, Granger and I had just met. I could make this _pretending_ fun. It had already grated on my nerves, I just had to force it to work out in my favor. I needed _amusement_, not more stress.

At that thought, a smirk inched across my face. I knew Granger would be surprised and maybe even offended, but wouldn't be able to show it. She would be forced to accept it. Oh, this was going to be good. She'd never be able to look at me the same at Hogwarts again.

Emily and Eric led us to the corner table and both slid into the booth against the wall, leaving Granger and I the remaining booth, together. Perfect. I gestured for her to slip in first and then sat down, _accidentally_ laying my hand on her left thigh. I laughed softly to myself as shivers ran down her body.

But a second later, when her hand suddenly came in contact with my own, it was my turn to shiver. Her skin was warm and soft.

Understandably, it freaked me out. Of course, that really well could have been because her nails dug into my skin as she lifted my hand off of her knee.

When Granger spoke, her voice was light and playful, but her eyes sent piercing daggers towards me.

"Why, Draco! Trying to hold my hand already?" she teased, forcing a smile. "I've barely even met you!"

Eric and Emily burst out laughing while I felt color rising into my pale face. Pushing my embarrassment aside, I rubbed my slightly pink skin (that undoubtedly had half-moons sprinkled across it) against my leg as I leaned into her slightly as I responded loudly, "You're just so enchanting, _Mia._"

Smirking as I said that, I felt extremely satisfied to watch her cheeks burn at my little inside joke. She seemed torn between anger and embarrassment. Ignoring the other strange feeling that had washed over me when she had said mygiven name, I decided that it would be best for me to pretend that nothing happened. No more fake flirting. That was a bad idea that just bit me in the behind.

Though it had been funny just to see her reaction.

"I insist that you start acting _normal_, Malfoy," she whispered back.

"I don't see how I'm supposed to do that, _Mia_, with Eric and Emily present," I grumbled in response as Eric stood up to let Emily out to of the booth so she could go to the loo.

"Don't call me Mia," she demanded, glaring at my smirk. "I have a name. You can use it, or you can avoid titles."

"Nah, I think I'll stick with Mia," I replied after pretending to give it some thought, eyes shining with amusement. Oh, it was always fun to get the little Gryffindor all riled up.

Our meal passed slowly, with Granger's tight smile hiding a growing frustration and my grin revealing all the amusement I was finding in the situation. Eric and Emily seemed to be unaware of the mostly nonverbal, play-on-words when spoken war between us. Whenever I would poke Granger's stomach, she would spaz like a mad woman, sparking a stomp of her foot on top of mine, leading to a battle not unlike but completely different from footsies with its cruel intentions.

But even the stabs of pain couldn't wipe my face of the seemingly permanent grin my latest pastime had delivered.

The remainder of the day passed relatively smoothly, with Granger returning home as soon as we exited the restaurant, and Eric and Emily claiming to have forgotten something at the cinema afterward. My friend certainly did seem to be forgetting things and losing things and having projects and previous plans or family stuff a lot this summer. More than any of the past summers I had known him. His friendship he had developed with Emily seemed to take up much of his time. Not for the first time since he had told me about the girl he had gotten to know since December, I wondered if the two were keeping something from me.

Then again, I hadn't been around him in a while. Maybe I was just seeing things that weren't there. Maybe because _I _was fooling them and lying to them and pretending to act like someone I wasn't, I thought that they must be doing the same thing to me.

The whole pretending gig was really getting on my nerves. More than just acting like I didn't know and liked Granger, the bit that bothered me the most is how natural and easy it was to fall into such a role. Getting so comfortable with the sham character I played during the day made me uncomfortable.

But then again, it did offer the one thing I had been searching for: an escape. Getting away from the Manor and acting like a completely different person kept all the thoughts that I should have been thinking and actions that I should have been taking far from my mind.

And that was what I wanted.

Wasn't it?


	5. Of Protective Dads and Weird Differences

**Disclaimer: I'm trying to find a way to trade in my friends for Harry Potter, but JKR doesn't like anybody I've offered so far. I'm going to have to start offering those people I actually like. Oh, the sadness! But until I find someone worthy, she still owns Harry Potter.**

**A/N: I didn't really mess with this one much, but it'll suffice for now. Any thoughts?**

A sigh of relief escaped my mouth as I closed my front door behind me. I hadn't been prepared to see and be forced to be around Malfoy all day. It made me extremely glad that I had remembered to bring my wand.

But, strangely enough, I never had to even threaten to use it. He had acted so… different. Not a single insult to my blood or even a derogatory glare (like that one where he looks at me like I'm something he would scrape off the bottom of his shoe) had come my direction. Of course, that didn't mean that he wasn't sending them to my back when I wasn't looking. And of course there was still the jibs and smirks and other glares (of hatred and contempt, but not of _disgust_) and the arguing and the pokes and prods and stomps and _touching_.

But that part of his behavior is what shocked me. Though it was slightly _mean_, it was, in all honesty, much closer on the spectrum to _playful. _And I had reciprocated! My behavior shocked me even more than his.

I hated it. My mind told me it was wrong to act so… well, not friendly, but… I couldn't find a word that fit, but my head still said it wasn't appropriate to be so with Malfoy.

"Hermione?" my dad called from the other room. "That you?"

"Yes," I replied promptly, collecting myself.

"So how's Emily?" he asked as he came into the family room with his files.

"Good. She met some new friends," I informed him, dropping my bag next to the sofa as I sat down.

"Your mother told me as much. Are they nice girls?" he asked. The way he assumed they were female brought a grin to my face. Then I thought about if I would describe Eric and Malfoy as nice. Well, Eric was, and Malfoy… he was acting plain bizarre. But… nice at times. Which in and of itself was bizarre.

"They're nice," I assured him. "But they're guys."

"Oh," he remarked, frowning. "How old are these boys?"

Laughing aloud, I responded, "Don't worry, Dad, they're our age and they're perfectly normal, nice boys."

After I said it, I wondered if it was proper to label Malfoy as normal and nice.

"What's the joke?" Mum inquired as she walked into the room.

"Nat, did you know that those friends of Emily's were boys?" my dad asked her. His completely serious expression brought smiles to both of our faces.

"I didn't ask questions, dear," she told him as she sat down next to me on the couch. "But if Maggie lets Emily be around them, they must be delightful young men."

I resisted the urge to scoff at the description of Malfoy as a delightful anything.

"Really, Dad, you don't need to worry," I insisted on their behalf. Besides, Eric seem like a wonderful guy, and (this word seems to have been stuck in my head) Malfoy was strangely acting just the same.

"All that effort could be put into something useful. I could use help in the kitchen," my mother pointed out in her usual way of ordering us to help make dinner. And as always, we took our cue and followed her into the kitchen.

Later that night, when I was safely tucked into bed, my thoughts began to wander and unorganized themselves. Scenes of Malfoy during the past few years at school filled my mind, only to be slowly replaced with the memories of the past 13 hours. I couldn't make sense of it. Everything seemed so different. I didn't know how to respond around him with everything being all upside-down and backwards and illogical.

I almost hoped that he would revert to being nasty and rude the next time I saw him. Anything but playful, that was for sure.

But there was another piece of me that desperately wanted to get to know the nicer, normal Draco Malfoy.

And that alone scared me.

But as I drifted off to sleep, I wondered what would happen if – just _if _– I stopped resisting that idea. What was the worst that could happen?


	6. Of Picnics Baskets and Blades of Grass

**Disclaimer: JKR: rich, famous, married with children, British, owner of everything Harry Potter. Me: not, not, not, not, and… not.**

**A/N: Neuh, this one didn't change much… But I hope you enjoy it anyway!**

When I woke up the next morning, all I saw were flashes of purple.

While in the ice cream parlor, the four of us had made plans for getting together again the next morning. So, the next morning, we gathered again at the neutral location of the park. That second day was again filled with casual conversation and the exchange of smiles as the four of us grew to get to know each other. We walked all around town, returning to Emily's house around two o'clock. We planned on packing some food to take with us to the river, where we would spend the rest of our afternoon.

Emily's parents welcomed us in and guided us to the kitchen. Samantha, Emily's seven year old sister, was painting a picture on the table. I smiled as I saw the family's refrigerator covered with the youngest member's painting masterpieces.

I was completely lost, not knowing where to find anything without specific directions, though Granger and Eric both seemed to know their way around. Still, with patience, time, and a lot of laughter, we managed to pull together a rather tempting lunch.

Thanking Emily's parents, we all left to pile into Eric's car. The river was about sixteen kilometers east of the northern part of town, too far for any of us to want to walk. Luckily, Eric's parents had given him a car for his birthday. Emily took the passenger seat, leaving Granger and I the back. Granger settled directly behind Eric, so that she could still see and talk to her friend if Emily turned slightly to the right, leaving me to situate myself behind her.

Twenty minutes later, Eric parked the car alongside a dirt road that would lead to the river after a few minutes of walking. Once we got to the clearing on the bank, we dropped our food basket onto the soft grass to lay down the blanket Granger had thought to grab from Emily's house. She was just smart like that.

The four of us sat down on the blanket and waited while Emily emptied the basket and handed out containers of food. As we ate, everyone commented on how beautiful it was out here by the creek. After lunch, we decided, we would enjoy the cool water.

Conversation was light and carefree. Eric started telling jokes and the rest of our group quickly jumped aboard, exchanging funnies and bouts of laughter over strawberries and grapes. Occasionally I would find myself searching out her eyes, pleasantly surprise when I found her to be looking back at me.

My eyes shined as a horribly wonderful, absolutely mischievous idea slithered into my mind. But it would have to wait for a little bit later. When Emily and Eric got distracted with each other, as they often did.

When the girls started protesting any more food being stuffed in their stomachs, the containers were slowly put away, with laughter and teasing lengthening the process.

"I don't want any bugs to get to the basket when we swim," Emily pouted.

"Why don't we run back to the car real quick and put it away then?" Eric suggested, sliding his hand over the handle.

"Sounds great," Emily agreed, smiling slightly.

"We can all come," Granger suggested, probably not wanting to be alone with me.

"Nah, you two can stay here," Emily insisted, waving off her friend. "I can keep Eric company on the short walk. That way no one will be lonely."

The silence that followed as our Muggle friends disappeared into the trees would have been extremely strange and possibly dangerous just the day before, but now was just awkward and full of anxiety. And that just wasn't acceptable. There would be no dwelling on bad or heavy or dark thoughts. I was out with _friends _(well, and Granger), and I was going to have a good time!

But being alone with Granger made me weirdly nervous. I couldn't act like I normally did around her – if Eric and Emily returned to find us in the midst of a magical duel, we'd both be in loads of trouble – nor could I force myself to pick up that pretend act of getting along with her that seemed altogether too easy to slip into around Eric and Emily.

The situation at hand must have bothered her as well (at least somewhat), seeing as she was abnormally silent and practically frozen leaning up against the trunk of a tree. Her eyes seemed to be focused on the stick she was twisting in her hands, almost reminding me of a wand. I wondered if the thoughts going through her head at the moment revolved around a list of possible curses she could throw at me if Eric and Emily weren't in the picture. Or soon returning to it, at least.

With that reminder that she was a witch, that she went to school with me, and that we hated each other, the need to amuse myself and thereby lighten my mood intensified to the point where I walked over to her side and squatted down, my back rubbing against the bark of the tree.

Resisting the temptation to laugh when I noted that her entire body had stiffened when I sat down, I merely watched as her hands nervously dropped the stick. Propping an eyebrow up at this display of nerves, a smirk spread across my face as the Gryffindor began absent-mindedly pulling at the grass in front of her, yanking it out of the ground and tossing it casually into a pile on the side.

Bored out of mind, I started to build my own pile of shards of green grass. It actually felt a bit good, tearing at the blades like it was some type of psychotherapy. Before long, the psychotherapy became a psycho-competition as Granger and I tried to create the bigger pile, each of our hands flying faster than my eyes could see. Stacking up, the two adjacent piles soon merged, making our contest rather pointless. However, we both continued on, neither wanting to be the one to give in and give up.

But after another few moments, my impatience kicked in and I needed a way to twist things around and make them interesting again.

The idea was a simple one, and one I thought was guaranteed to work (if Granger's reaction to my actions yesterday was any evidence).

Suddenly and swiftly, I dropped my collection of green slivers on the pile and let my hand fall back to the ground. But this time, instead of making contact with more unsuspicious grass victims, my skin landed on Granger's own.

I couldn't help but smirk.


	7. Of Green Talk and Hiding in Trees

**Disclaimer: JK doesn't like any of my friends, evidently.**

**Maybe I need to get myself new friends.**

**A/N: 'Tis the new version! YAY for revamping! Thanks to everyone who reviewed! It means a lot and keeps me going. **

My whole body froze. My eyes rested on Malfoy's hand, which was touching my skin once more. I got that feeling again that I had felt the other day, that feeling that everything everywhere on my body was cold except for where he touched me. Shoving it away, I raised my eyes so I could glare at him.

All of a sudden, his warmth left my hands and my vision was obscured by blurs of green. My body instinctively jumped backwards in surprise, and I cried out in surprise before realizing that Malfoy had simply thrown my pile (_our _pile, a little voice whispered in my head) of grass up in my face. Probably just to annoy me.

Slightly embarrassed about freaking out over a collection of grass, but still a bit upset, I heard his laughter and glared at him. Suddenly the thought struck me that the boy in front of me was acting much more like Fred and George Weasley than the Draco Malfoy I knew from school. Before I knew it, a smile had crept onto my face.

"You're going to pay for that!" I yelled as he got up and ran around the tree I had been leaning against. I scrambled to get up on my feet and chased after him. I heard more laughter as I got to the other side of the tree only to see his figure slipping around the edge.

"Gonna have to be faster to catch me!" he proclaimed. Instead of answering, I simply followed him faster as we weaved through the trees. Laughter filled the air, and I was surprised to find that some of it came from my own mouth. Our path found us approaching the huge tree we had started the chase at, and the blond shot me a grin over his shoulder before running over to it. My own grin in place, I followed him around the trunk, only to discover he was nowhere to be found.

Confused, I wondered if he had cheated and used magic. My spun around, expecting to find him behind me, laughing his head around, but still saw nobody. My frustration built as I stood there, wondering where he had disappeared to.

Then, a soft voice called to me from above.

"Hey... gimme your hands."

"That's cheating!" I declared, knowing it was Malfoy, even if I couldn't see his face. There was no mistaking that voice.

"Oh, just lighten up and give me you hands, Granger!" he demanded from above.

"No way, ferret!" I responded. "I don't trust Slytherins that throw _green_ things at me."

"I should have known that stuck-up Gryffindors were too prissy for some good, honest fun," he teased back.

"Fine," I responded, wanting to prove him wrong. "Try and find them."

I lifted my hands into the air.

To my amazement, he did. Hands came out of nowhere and easily lifted me into the leaves. My fingers grabbed the nearest branch in attempt to steady myself, but Malfoy's hands wrapped around my waist to guide me to the perfect place to sit instead, which happened to be right by his side. He looked at me with a grin on his face, and I couldn't help but smile back, my frustration melting away. The view of the river and its surroundings from the tree tops was magnificent. I leaned forward to peer past the branch blocking my view of the spot where I expected our blanket below on the grass to be spread out.

"It looks so pretty from up here," I remarked.

"You can't even see anything with all these thick branches," he objected.

"But the branches are pretty," I insisted. "All the colors…"

"It's all green," Malfoy pointed out with a grin. "I didn't know that you liked that color."

"It's brown, too!" I replied. "And so what if I happen to find green an appealing color? It's more than the shade of Slytherin."

"Okay, I'll give you that much," he admitted. A sudden smile came over his face and he reached up towards my hair, confusing me to no end. Trying not to react and seem afraid or anything, I still flinched slightly.

"Looks like you didn't manage to get all the grass out," he teased, pulling back his hand with strands of green between his fingers. Remembering the trick he pulled, color flushed my face.

"Don't think this changes anything, Granger," he warned me, his obvious amusement at what had just happened taking the sting out of the words.

"I wouldn't dream of it, Malfoy," I replied honestly, hoping to whoever listened that nothing would actually change. As much as I wanted my normal, I was beginning to doubt.


	8. Of Nicknames and First Names

**Disclaimer: JK owns them. I just turn them into puppets.**

**A/N: And here we are! The revamping of the first eight chapters is COMPLETED! I am a happy person! Any thoughts on the changes (if you've read before), or just about what happens (if you're a new reader)? I'd love to hear them! Thank you so much for reading! I hope you enjoy!**

Smiling at my absurd, foolish, and unbelievably fun interaction with Granger in the past few minutes, I didn't even bother trying to figure out why exactly I was having _fun_ with the crazy Gryffindor.

"So do Potter and Weasley call you by your precious nickname?" I inquired teasingly.

"No! Merlin, no," she exclaimed, eyes widening. "I hate that name! Only Em uses it. I let her friends get away with it, but not even my parents call me that."

"Really?" I asked, quite surprised to hear this. "Why are you so against it?"

"I'm not big on nicknames in the first place," she explained. Then she furrowed her nose a bit. "Plus, Mia is so… off-putting."

Unable to resist, I burst out into laughter, something that obviously bothered the girl since she huffed in response.

"Then why don't you just tell Emily that?" I suggested. "Isn't she one of your best friends and all that junk?"

"Well, yeah, she is," she answered, lacing her fingers together and placing her joint hands on her bent knees. "But she's been calling me that ever since we were little; I can't just tell her it bothers me and demand she stop."

"Why'd she start calling you that if it bothers you so much?" I asked. Granger was weird.

"When we were little, she couldn't say my name," Granger explained. I suddenly realized that we were actually looking at each other while holding this conversation. As in eye contact and everything. "So she just shortened it and I was deemed 'Mia' instead."

"Oh," I responded, not knowing what to say and still a bit bothered by the fact that we were not only being civil, but practically friendly. And it felt… pleasant.

"And don't get any nasty ideas, Malfoy," she warned, a semi-dangerous glint entering her gaze.

"What, like calling you Mia in Charms class or yelling it across the Great Hall during dinner?" I replied, immediately deciding that both were fabulous ideas that would be most amusing indeed.

"Exactly like that!" she exclaimed. "Don't _do that_, Draco!"

Suddenly we both froze.

She called me Draco.

Well, she had called me Draco before, while Eric and Emily around, so it wasn't really the fact that the name was slipping through her lips, in her voice, that shocked me. I had gotten used to that. Almost.

"Draco! Mia! We're back!" Emily's voice rang out from beneath us. I jumped at the sound, and Mia nearly fell over sideways as we thanked whoever was listening for the shattering of the unwanted awkward silence.

"Where'd they go?" I heard Eric ask below. My mind spun as I contemplated what to do next. With amusement, I noticed that Mia's cheeks were tinted pink and she steadily focused her gaze on the branch she sat on. Her hands lied curled in her lap, fingers nervously tearing at her nails.

"So…" I started, leaving my unfinished sentence hanging in the air.

"Yeah," she responded softly, still not looking at me.

An awkward silence rang within the tree branches as Eric and Emily continued searching for us on the ground.

"Maybe they ran off together," Eric joked, obviously earning him a playful punch from Emily by his muttered 'Hey!' afterwards.

"Hermione's not like that, you dolt. She wouldn't 'run off' with some guy she just met!" Emily insisted.

Mia turned even redder, and I tilted my head sideways, wondering why.

I stared at my hands, watching them trace the bark on the tree branch as my mind spat out possible actions. They way I figured, I had two options. I could either confront the awkwardness of Granger calling me by my first name without any forced reason to do so or I could pretend the whole awkward situation of the friendly first name use never happened and go back to being playful and friendly with the girl I was supposed to be pretend getting along with while really hating. This pretend thing was screwing with my head. Evidently both of our heads.

Okay, I'd confess. I really wanted to know why she used my name.

But looking at the embarrassed girl in front of me as she listened to our friends wonder where we were, I chose number two.

"Hey, you know, I think Eric and Emily are right beneath us," I commented to Granger, inserting a mischievous hint into my tone. Finally, she looked up at me, turning her head sharply, her forehead scrunching up and eyebrows meeting in confusion.

"What?"

"I mean, we're in a tree with Emily and Eric right below us, and, oh, the possibilities…" I gave her a broad grin and gestured with my hands. Slowly, her mouth began to lift into a smile.

"Okay," she agreed, her eyes betraying how apprehensive she still was but her body moving to follow mine. We stood up carefully and walked down the branches until we were both in position, her placed just above Emily and me hunched right over an unsuspecting Eric.

Smirking, I raised my right hand and eyebrows simultaneously. She grinned and bit down on her lower lip.

When I lowered my last finger, we both jumped down from the leaves.

Emily screamed with genuine terror as Eric practically jumped out of his socks. The four of us fell to the ground in heaps, Granger and I laughing uncontrollably as we disentangled ourselves from our victims. The two them relaxed when they figured out what had just happened. Eric laughed and, giving me a slap on the back, declared that was a good one. Emily, however, exclaimed, "Hermione Granger! Don't ever ever ever do that to me again!"

Soon, everyone had calmed down. As we stripped down to our bathing suits I caught Granger's eye and she offered a shy smile before diverting her gaze. When she did, I smiled to myself.


	9. Of Junk Food and Girl Talk

**A/N: Oh me gosh, I know. I am actually updating. It's only been, what? Almost three months? I'm sorry guys. I've been rather sick for weeks now and the docs have yet to fix me or even find out how, so life has not been helping. But I managed to type out this and hope you guys like it. Hopefully the ideas for this story will come back soon, because I kinda struggled with this chappie. And a big, huge, gigantic Titanic thanks to all of my reviewers out there. You keep me going.**

As Emily and I picked through her kitchen cabinets, a smile grew once again on my face as the memories of the day played through in my mind. In the fashion of best friends, I heard Emily's voice from behind the open fridge.

"So, I'm guessing you didn't mind the extra guests recently."

I continued to search through the pantry for some peanut butter, but blushed slightly at her words.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

She laughed. "Come on, Mia. I'm not blind."

I closed the pantry with my selections in my hands and followed her as she shut the fridge with her arms full of goodies and walked over to her room.

"Well, duh," I replied from behind her, pleased with myself and the fact that I now felt more composed.

"Ha bloody ha," she responded, earning her a playful shove from behind courtesy of moi. Once we were in her bedroom I kicked shut the door and dropped the snacks on her bed. "You know what I meant."

I stuck my tongue out at her and pulled up my hair into a ponytail. "Doesn't mean I have to admit it to you."

She rolled her eyes as we settled on her twin sized bed. Immediately I pulled open the bag of pretzels and began the dive of my hand through the pile for treasured peanut butter.

"Mia, there is nothing wrong with admitting that it was nice to be out with some guys for once," Em insisted. If she only knew… "And looking a hot guy bod is nothing to be ashamed of!"

She shot me a grin as I began to protest, although my mind suddenly went spinning to the sight of Draco Malfoy earlier today. In swimming shorts. And shirtless. With drenched hair and water dripping down his chest and arms and face and…

At Em's laugh I was brought back to reality with a tinge of red dusting my cheeks.

"Like you didn't notice either!" I shot back. She immediately shoved her hands in the air.

"Hey, I never denied it. I'll readily admit that I appreciated the swimming time today," she replied with a suggestive lift of her eyebrows.

We both burst into giggles.

"I'm so glad your mum let you sleep over," Emily remarked, piling up layers of cheese on a cracker before shoving it in her mouth.

"Mhmm," I agreed past Oreo cookie. "It's been way too long since the last time we've done this."

It was nice to spend some quality girl time again. Though I had enjoyed the day with Eric and Malfoy, there were certain things girls could only do with only other girls. Like stay up late watching sappy movies and eating junk and gossiping and playing silly games and sharing secrets. Plus it gave me some time to think about everything that happened today.

In summary, my world had pretty much been thrown for a loop. Draco Malfoy was suddenly tossed into my summer alongside my Muggle friends. And although I had objected at first, it certainly hadn't taken long for me to become… not openly, deeply objected? Not as revolted? I didn't quite know how I felt about the situation anymore. At first, I was furious, but then… the weirdest things happened. Like how I called him Draco today.

_Draco._

It was a nice name, I decided.

And there was no harm in using a person's given name, especially if it's a nice one.

You can't simply forget the past, especially if the past includes hurt and hatred, can you? I had thought not. But somehow, things had changed already. Maybe it was because of his lack of treating me the way I knew Draco Malfoy to be. Maybe it was because we were surrounded by Eric and Em. Maybe it was because neither of us acted like we act at school. Was he this different every summer? Maybe something happened to change his mind. Maybe I'd have to ask him myself.

Maybe it was a guy thing.

"So what film do you want to watch first?" Em asked, pulling two tapes from her shelves. "Choice number one: _When Harry Met Sally_. Choice number two: _The Princess Bride_. Or… choice number three: _Interview with the Vampire_."

A frown of indecision appeared on my face. "What about… _Four Weddings and a Funeral_?"

Lowering the movies in her hands, Em rolled her eyes again. "Yes, that was a choice."

"Hey," I protested, "You never said I was restricted to your three. I'll pick something else then."

"No, no. _Four Weddings and a Funeral_ is a good one," she concurred, retrieving the box and putting it in her VCR. As she brought back the remote and sat down at the head of the bed, she mumbled loudly, "One I think we've watched five hundred times…"

"Well, why mess with a classic?" I teased, shooting her a smile before grabbing the chocolate-covered raisins.

As we watched the movie and ate our disgustingly sugary snacks, I found my mind wandering consistently. The four of us had agreed to get together again next Tuesday for lunch and maybe a game or two of football or basketball. Though if the boys decided they wanted to play football, it would probably mean Em and I watched from the sidelines. I never was very good at the sport. I never tried that hard, but still. For some reason I would always slip and fall on my butt whenever I tried to kick the ball to someone else. Or I would trip right over it while moving down the field. Besides, watching the guys run around in shorts and get covered in sweat didn't sound half bad. As long as we watched a bit away that is.

I wondered what Draco would do until then. How he would spend his days. If he talked to other Muggles or wrote to his wizarding friends. Surely he didn't spend the summer alone. Maybe that was why he developed the friendship with Eric that he had.

"I love that poem," I heard Em sigh next to me. _Funeral Blues_. It truly was a good poem. Sad, but good. And very true. When such horrible things happened, people do want the world to simply stop existing as they have. For a moment, my mind wandered back into the past.

But soon enough the movie had me smiling again.

"With the luck they have with weddings, I wouldn't marry either," Em claimed as she got up to replace the tape with _The Princess Bride_.

"I'm not sure," I replied, thinking about how I wanted my life to play out. "I think I would enjoy marriage. And anyway, you're not them."

"Got me there," Em responded with a smile. Again she settled back on her bed and waited for the movie. My stomach was gently purring with delight and my eyelids were slowly protesting to staying open.

"I love this movie," I heard Em's voice proclaimed.

"Hmmm," I mumbled in agreement.

As Wesley shouted 'As you wish' while tumbling down the hill, I drifted off to sleep.


	10. Of Ice Cream Sundaes and Name Obsessions

**A/N: Here I come, like the man who's come crawling back a dozen times and is doing it again in the hopes of gaining a forgiveness that isn't deserved, playing a broken record on my kowtowing back. I've had some personal issues lately and then was determined to type more of the story up before posting again so that I would never do what I have done a million times to my readers of this story and make them wait months for updates, something which took even longer than expected since I lost all of my material when my flashdrive broke on me and took gigantic portions from multiple parts of my life with it. **

**Anyhow, a huge thanks to all who are here with me on this one. Reviews really brighten my Eeyore-friendly days.**

Incredibly slowly, a week sped by. Each day I spent with Eric and Emily and Mia changed my view on all three of them. I had already been friends with Eric and had started accepting Emily as well, but the strangest transformations were my thoughts on Mia.

This girl I met on a summer day seemed so different from the bookworm in all my classes, but yet the same. I recognized her smile while with Emily as one that Potter and Weasley must have been privy to countless times. She still loved books and learning; she and Emily discussed various novels they had read while at school often, leading me to wonder when in between classes and her adventures with Potter that she managed to read other works. She also visited the library at least every other day; we went with Emily and Mia on Tuesday and Thursday. Classic goody-two-shoes, she worried about breaking the rules; Eric had wanted to go egg some guy's house, but Mia refused to 'participate in such an act.' (Real shame, too, since it was so much fun.) And, of course, she still showed off her high intelligence with remarks and corrections repeatedly throughout the day. When she had first done so, I rolled my eyes and felt that usual stab of despise and jealousy, but time had me rolling my eyes with a smile on my face for some reason, an act that mirrored the reactions of Emily and Eric.

Exactly one week since the four of us had first met up, we were all in the bakery for a morning treat. Plans had been constructed to take photographs with each other in a bunch of the random places, like thin alleys and the small diner across down and the meadow half an hour away.

To my extreme surprise, being foolish and silly with the three of them made me laugh so much my stomach hurt. After descending from the roof of an old shop, Emily announced that she was feeling like ice cream and asked if anyone else wanted to go get some. Of course, the suggestion by itself spurred us towards the ice cream parlor we had visited just a week ago.

Different sundaes were ordered in the same seats as last time, each of us smiling huge grins as we stole whipped cream, sampled each other's ice cream flavors, and 'accidentally' dripped caramel and fudge on each other's hands. When Emily uncharacteristically proclaimed that she was too stuffed to finish her sundae, I selflessly volunteered to carry the burden. After everyone enjoyed a good laugh, Eric suggested that he and Emily pay the bill and pull up the car, leaving Mia to give me company.

Over the past few days, we had hung around together a lot, but hardly ever stumbled across those still somewhat awkward moments when we were left alone. Like now. Cue awkwardness.

For a few moments, the only noise at our table was the clanking of my spoon against the glass container of Emily's sundae. I didn't want to look up at the girl next to me, but somehow found myself doing so when she spoke.

"Can we talk later?" she asked with a nervous hint in her voice.

"About…?" I wasn't sure if I wanted to know. Explanations of what was happening and what had already happened this summer did not sound fun.

"Just… stuff," she responded, swinging her gaze towards the door. I turned around to look also and saw that Eric and Emily were outside waiting for us.

Abandoning my silver spoon in the empty glass, I scooted out of the booth. There was a moment of slight awkwardness when I wasn't sure whether it would be polite or weird to offer my hand to help her get out, but it died when I decided to do nothing and simply walk away.

Later that day, when we were fooling around in the meadow, Emily and Eric expressed the desire to rest a bit in the shade of some big tree. Mia took the opportunity to utilize the time as serious, I-used-to-know-you-before-this talk time.

"Wanna climb the tree?" I asked, trying to avoid the conversation.

"If we do, can we talk?" she replied.

Mumbling my agreement (I realized that there would be no evasion of this talk and gave in), I jumped up and grabbed a low branch while Mia walked around the tree a bit until she was out of my sight. A few feet up, I saw that she had climbed the other side, which had a lower first branch that I supposed she used to get up into the tree. After scaling the tree for a couple of minutes, we stopped at a level that allowed us a good view of the meadow and sky from sizeable branches that served as our seats.

"Whoa," I heard Mia whisper under her breath as she peered downwards.

"Scared of heights?" I asked, remembering a rumor around school that a fear of heights was what kept the bookworm from enjoying Quidditch.

"No," she rebuked firmly. "We're just really high up, that's all."

"Sure," I responded in a voice that revealed how much I didn't believe her.

"I'm serious!" she insisted.

"How do you cope with flying?" I asked teasingly. "Flip out?"

"I don't fly," she assured me.

"So you _are _scared of heights," I shot back, sending her a look.

To my surprise, she blushed slightly. "No, I just suck," she grumbled.

"Oh." Evidently the bookworm didn't like things she didn't excel in. Interesting peek into her personality.

"So, Draco…" she cut herself off, tilting her head in a manner that indicated that she was pondering something.

"What did you want to talk about?" I pushed when she failed to speak up again.

"That. How funny it sounds to even call you that," she replied, still gazing at the meadow below us.

"My name? You think my name is funny?"

"No." She turned her head to look at me instead of the grasses. "It's just weird."

"Oh, so my name is weird. Thanks." Suddenly I really wanted to jump down from the tree just to escape this talk.

"That's not what I meant! Though it kind of is. I mean, Draco? The only connections are 'dragon' in Latin and that constellation." She paused again, seeming to make a connection. "Is that a Black obsession or something?"

"Maybe you just lack a respect for the night sky, Granger," I snarled back, upset to hear her put down my name.

For some reason, that statement froze her in place. Her teeth bit down on her lower lip as she kept her eyes to her hands, watching as her fingers tore her nails apart. I wanted to ask her what was wrong, but I didn't want to speak. Something nibbling at the back of my brain informed me that I had crossed some line I hadn't known existed.

"That's what I meant," she remarked after a moment, speaking still to her hands. "It's weird to call you by your first name."

As soon as she said that, I understood what she meant. I still couldn't call her Hermione. It sounded too… Granger. Then I realized that I had just used that name – Granger – rather than Mia. Perhaps that was what struck her cold.

"But I guess you don't really have that particular issue, do you?" she continued, despise leaking into her tone.

"You really think that?" I scoffed. "You have no idea just how foreign it is to even think of you as not Granger. Besides, I don't think I could handle calling you Hermione."

"What's that supposed to mean?" she demanded.

"It means I like separating the Gryffindor bookworm Hermione Granger from this new Mia I have to be around," I explained, having come to that very conclusion a couple of days ago by myself. It had gotten a bit confusing for my brain as I switched from thinking about the Gryffindor girl as Granger, but vocally referring to her as Mia, like Eric and Emily did. So, I chose the path of least resistance and decided to just mentally start calling her Mia as well. The transition wasn't particularly difficult (just a bit strange to adapt to), so I doubted it would be hard to undo when the time came.

"Wow. Thanks. You have to pretend I'm a different person to be around me? And you make it sound like you're forced to hang out with me. You're not. Leave, watch me not care," she spat, weaving her arm around the branch she was sitting on to start the climb down.

Confused by what had just happened, I stared at the space she had just left for a moment before dropping my head into my hands and sighing heavily.


	11. Of Kitchen Confessions and Mum Power

**Disclaimer: Not mine, not mine, not mine, not mine… (sorry, I need to keep reminding myself this…)**

**A/N: Oops! I had such a busy Labor Day weekend, I completely forgot to uphold my weekly promise and post! You can even ask the author I beta for, I forgot to beta her story, too! But anyway, my bestest friend reminded me about it, so you really ought to thank the fabulous Tori for this chapter being posted, albeit a few days late. I hope you all still enjoy it, and please, let me know!**

Was I stupid to think that it could just not matter? Was it ridiculous to say that I could hang out with Draco Malfoy and be okay with that? I didn't know what I was thinking.

But I did know that I fell into a horrible mood for the rest of that day. I refused to talk to him, brushed off Eric and Emily's inquiries, and ended up going home early when Em decided that we couldn't take more pictures when I was acting all weird. I actually yelled at her.

Walking through my front door, I felt kind of bad for taking my anger out on her. I also felt almost bad for getting so upset with Draco when he called me Granger. I wasn't even sure he meant anything by it.

But that was the point! How could he still despise the me from school and get along with me now? I had felt torn when I first found out that I had to deal with him, but then I had decided to see what happened. And look what happened.

Perhaps I should try to talk to him again. But then, my wanting to talk did lead to the whole frustrating opening of a can of worms that I had thought my mind had consciously buried for the summer. Maybe I shouldn't have tried to clear things up between the two Hogwarts students we are and the friends we're pretending to be. Perhaps those roles should just be completely separated, like Draco seemed to have done in his mind.

But I couldn't do that. I couldn't lie to myself and pretend that this Draco was a new person. I couldn't treat him like he wasn't the same person. For a while, it had been easy to be around him, to somehow think that he had changed, or that he could be different around me when we had to put on that show for Emily or Eric. I had probably been in denial, thinking that life could be something it's not.

I wanted it to be. Maybe I was giving him too little credit too soon. Either he was an excellent actor, or the boy I knew at school truly did have this other side. If it was the former, after some extreme self-reprimanding time and embarrassing confronting with the truth, I would get over it. However, if it really was the latter, and I gave up now, it would forever pester me, nibbling on my mind as the years passed.

Confused and tired, I turned to the one thing that never failed.

"Mum?" I asked as I entered the dining room to draw her attention. After a moment, she looked up from her paperback book. "Can I speak with you for a bit?"

"Of course," she answered, laying her book upside-down on the table to keep her place. "Care to help me finish making dinner as we talk?"

Once she had told me what we were having and the two of us had gotten out everything we would need, we dove into the fray.

"So what is it that's bothering you, honey?" Mum questioned as she started peeling the potatoes, using a recipe her sister had sent her a while ago. While living in France, my aunt had welcomed many of their foods into her kitchen, including this garlic and onion potato dish that Mum had also become fond of. Since the Northgates were coming over for supper that night and Mum always strived to impress my Dad's sister, she was hoping it would capture their taste buds as well.

While my hands worked on slicing said potatoes into a dish, my mind debated how much of the background information on my dilemma I should reveal to my mother. With a collected sigh of preparation, I decided to spill it all, starting at the beginning.

"Remember how I told you that Em introduced me to a couple of her friends a week ago that I hadn't met before?" I asked, wishing I didn't have to continue.

"Of course," she replied, washing off another skinless potato and placing it on my board for it to await cutting.

"Well…" I took a deep breath. "I lied."

Turning around to face me, my mother frowned, forehead and all. "What do you mean you lied, Hermione?"

"I knew one of them."

A smile almost stole a place on my face as she relaxed. "Why did you lie about such a silly thing like that?" she asked as she returned to her peeler.

"Because one of the guys is a wizard," I told her. "I couldn't tell Emily I knew him from my school where I learn witchcraft."

"Okay, that makes sense," my mother replied. "But why did you feel the need to not tell me or your father? Was this boy one of your school friends?"

"Well, that's the thing," I explained, biting my lip. "I hated him. He was a bully and a Slytherin. Remember when I told you about the boy that called me that mean name a few years ago that I hadn't known what it meant but really hurt once I knew?"

Again my mother turned to face me, a surprised expression this time coloring her face. "Why didn't you say so?" she exclaimed. "Hermione, you shouldn't have to deal with that boy. I don't understand how Emily could be around such a horrible boy…"

"That's the other thing," I cut in to say. Sighing from the weight of the thoughts my brain held at the moment, I put down my knife and rested my hands against the counter. "He's been different this summer."

Taken aback, my mother's face then portrayed the feelings I stored within. "That's… strange. What do you mean, different?" she asked.

"Just… different." I couldn't find a single word to explain his peculiar actions. "He's been nicer and never called me names or treated me like dirt or acted in any way towards me as he usually does in school."

"Is he, has he said anything?" she asked, leaning up against the counter next to me.

"Not really," I admitted. "I tried to bring it up today, but then he called me Granger and it got me upset for some stupid reason and the whole 'We go to the same school and hated each other there' issue was kind of pushed aside after that."

"Well," my mother said, seeming to think hard about this. "Maybe this is the way he usually deals with meeting people from your Wizarding World outside of it, or maybe something happened between last week and when you got home from school. Is there anything that could have happened to change anything?"

"Um." I felt embarrassed to admit this next bit my mother. "Something happened at the end of the school year that got his father in trouble… and I was sort of a part of it."

"What? What happened?" my mother demanded. I hadn't told my parents the details of the fiasco at the Ministry, hoping to spare them the stress and worries of the war taking place in the Wizarding World. Still not wanting to burden them with the messy details, I replied, "It's just, his dad practices Dark Magic and got put in jail for it and Harry was involved with this particular time and it probably really screwed with Malfoy's family life."

"Malfoy, have I heard that name before?" my mother asked. She sure did have a lot of questions. I'm sure that Ron would have had a sarcastic comment to sneak in about that if he knew.

"That's his name. Draco Malfoy," I explained.

"Oh, okay." My mother went silent again. After a moment, she returned to the sink to continue peeling potatoes and I thought that perhaps she needed some time to think it all out. Then, she said, "Maybe this thing with his father made him think about some things, or… I really don't know, honey. Maybe you should try to talk to him again. I doubt you'll find answers anywhere else."

I sighed, wishing that my mother could somehow – magically – know more. But I guess that the mysteries of a guy's actions were beyond even the Mum Power.

After a long, wonderful dinner with my aunt, uncle, and two cousins, the seven of us had moved into the sitting room for a while to talk. The parents discussed things like work and the government and involved topics that forced any children listening to automatically mature twenty years while Janelle and John and I talked about recent movies and school and books. Janelle had always been my favorite cousin on either side of my family mostly because of how much both of us loved to read, but John spent much of the time shaking his head at us and trying to diverge the conversation to a topic he could join in on. When they ended up leaving an hour later, I found myself pleased with the comfortable ending to a strange day.

Following my mother into the kitchen to help her clean it up, we tossed some laughs and remarks between us for a while as we washed dishes.

Finally, when the dishes were resting on towels and we dried our hands, my mother pulled the rest of the trifle out onto the counter and offered me another spoon. "So, I was thinking," she began after slipping a bite of raspberry trifle. "And maybe there really is an explanation behind all your questions about why your friend is acting in a way that you don't understand. Maybe you just really didn't know him as much as you thought you did."

Silenced by the conversation that she brought back up, I thought about what she said as I stared at the spoonful of trifle that had been slowly making its way to my mouth. "Maybe not," I agreed. Then I let out a little laugh. "I sure never would have thought he would hang around non-magic people and act like it was normal."

Mum smiled one of those smiles you can hear. "It's weird to see people outside of the box they belong in, eh?"

Looking at each other with grins on our faces, I thought that perhaps the Mum Power hadn't failed. Maybe I just didn't really know who Draco Malfoy was.

But next time I saw him, I would find out.


	12. Of Unseen Obstacles and Melting Worlds

**Disclaimer: JKR is just luckier than I am. That's all it boils down to. All that creativity stuff and age difference and Britishness all boils down to luck, right?**

**Okay, and she's brilliant, so… I guess she deserves Harry Potter…**

**A/N: Oh my gosh, me actually updating on time? The shock! But, here she is. More Draco and Hermione interaction and a deeper look into our Draco. Hope you enjoy it! Please tell if so!**

When I came home that night, I found a note in my bedroom. She must have had one of the house elves do it after I hadn't gone to eat dinner with her once again. At first, the sight of it sparked a desire to tear it up and throw it into the fireplace and watch the flames lick up the paper and her words as they fulfilled the only purpose they would ever have and charred to ashes. However, a moment's thought on how much I had apparently screwed up today found me sighing as I flopped onto my bed and grabbed the slip of parchment.

My eyes grew heavy with guilt as they scanned the words my mother gave life in ink. Like any normal mother, she was worried about her teenage son whose actions she couldn't understand and viewed as irrational. But she seemed to want to, and seemed to care, which surprised me to no end. Maybe I was wrong, perhaps she hadn't changed when my father had.

Suddenly anger sprouted within me, anger at my father, at my mother, at my professors, at my friends, at my classmates, at the Dark Lord, at everyone, at the world. Why did they let this happen? Why did people watch as my father was stolen from me and my childhood ripped to pieces? Why did I let it happen?

More than anyone else, I hated myself. A coward and a loser had no reason to blame anyone but himself. When it boiled down to it, it was my fault, too. My fault, too.

Clawing the letter from my mother into a bunch as my fists fell into the soft mattress on my bed, I closed my eyes and let the sobs that echoed throughout my room lull me to sleep.

Once again, I left the Manor the next morning without speaking to my mother.

But today, the thought struck me harder than before. Because of last night. No matter what those words had struck inside me, I wasn't ready to talk to her yet. Coward I was, I wasn't going to do something as simple as hold a conversation with my own mother until I felt I was ready.

However, the others had plans for today. I had nowhere to go, no one to turn to, nothing to do. I supposed that it was best though. After all, how was I going to force myself to face them sporting a smile this time when I felt so black inside?

Still, I had to get out of that house. With a shadow of a sliver of a hope and a glance to the heavens, I set out across the grounds that surrounded the Manor. For no particular reason, I started running, passing through the grasses at full speed. No thought pushed me to start leaping past the scenes of grass meeting trees meeting sky, and no thought entered my mind after I got started doing so. Warm wind slapped my face, wrapping a strange embrace around my body that stung just enough to let me know I wasn't dreaming.

Land in front of me bounced up and down, never sitting still for long. Long blinks left my brain to become confused as my eyes delivered flashes of scenes and darkness one after another, over and over. My arms pumped furiously in a race with my legs to reach my unknown destination. Breaths grew labored as they fled from my mouth in a harsh repetition. Burning sensations spread among my lungs with each meter I passed. Blood that the heart I apparently still had shot through my body, heating my flesh from pale skin in.

Some unseen obstacle – probably an unnoticeable rock half the size of my palm – wandered through my path and sent me stumbling through the air until I collided with the ground, rolling down the slight incline in the chaos and rewarding numerable bumps and bruises as signs of my trip.

Still harshly pushing and pulling air into my mouth, my body came to a halt while it continued to work insanely to deliver oxygen to my greedy limbs. My eyes remained closed as I laid unmoving, the only penetration of the silence in the form of the whistling wind and my rasping transference of breaths.

For a moment that seemed to stretch into hours, I sat there, only slightly moving from the position that my fall had left me in to feel the grass with my fingertips and curl into a fetal position as my body gradually relaxed.

When I finally did open my eyes, I stared up at the blue sky with a blank mind. Thoughts slowly began to paint on it, and I rolled flat onto my back, resting my hands beneath my head and propping my knees up in the air.

I would figure this out. Perhaps it would help to talk to somebody. Maybe Mum.

Maybe later.

Maybe… maybe Granger… Mia… Hermione.

The next day was spent in a silent contemplation similar to the one the day before. But by the day after that, I couldn't stay within the grounds and stay calm. Still not willing to face my mother, I wandered into town, walking among the stores and shops, watching the people as they formed crowds down the streets and paused to tie a shoe or pick up a fallen paper or fix a little girl's hair.

In my hurry to escape from my home, I hadn't eaten breakfast at the manor that morning. By noon, my stomach mumbled ever so slightly, but when I entered the ice cream parlor, nothing on the menu seemed appeasing, even to my mumbling stomach. So, I went without and returned to studying human behavior. My feet brought me to the park, where I stayed until the sun reached the horizon.

Just when I decided that perhaps I should return home for the day, I bumped into someone unexpected.

"Malfoy," she pronounced, evidently not expecting to see me there either.

After a moment's thought, I greeted back with a slight nod, "Hermione."

To my amazement, she then smiled a smile that showed how pleasantly surprised she was. "You hungry?" she asked, beginning a conversation that she probably wanted to continue. Intelligent me gathered that much from her gesture towards town.

"Kind of," I replied truthfully.

"Want some ice cream?" she specified. Thinking about how ice cream hadn't managed to catch my stomach earlier, I merely shrugged. Maybe after a few more hours of eating nothing, my body would be hungry enough.

With a silence that flirted with awkwardness, we began walking along the streets that would bring us to the ice cream parlor the four of us favored. Mia – I mean, Hermione – chatted about what she had been doing over the past few days, occasionally questioning me about my own. I shrugged most of her inquiries off, diverging from that particular subject for the time being.

When we reached the ice cream parlor, she asked if I wanted a sundae or a cone. "Why?" I wondered out loud to her.

"I figured that we would eat inside if you felt like a sundae, but we could get a cone to go if you wanted that," she replied, almost shyly.

"Oh," I responded stupidly, brain not quite turned back on and into interaction with other people mode. "A cone is fine."

"Okay," she agreed, turning to the flavors as if she didn't have them memorized. I watched her face as she look at each one, no doubt outweighing the pros and cons of the components of each flavor. The scene brought a smile to my face for the first time since… well, since the last time something she had done had made me smile. Suddenly I realized that I should spent this time with her wisely. Maybe I should take the chance to talk to her.

After we both ordered and received our cones, I suggested that we eat them while walking around the park, so we headed back in the direction from whence we came. Once we arrived, I guided us down a path and next to tree, where I sat down. As I knew she would, M – Hermione – followed suit. For a few precious moments, we sat in a comfortable silence that I enjoyed, each of us enjoying our frozen treats.

"Can we talk?" I heard her ask again. I knew she would bring back up that conversation I had somehow killed a few days before. In fact, I was hoping she would.

"Shoot," I replied, not wanting to get her mad at me again.

"Why were you out with Eric?" she shot, getting right to her point. "I mean, he's a Muggle. You don't seem –"

Understanding what she meant, I sighed and looked away, going right back to wishing I didn't have to have this conversation and put things in words. Words were more binding than mere feelings. Nevertheless, I interrupted her words to answer what I knew was coming.

"I know." Then, I prepared myself to let free the thoughts that had been plaguing me the past couple of thought-filled days, and to Hermione Granger, no less. "Well, I met Eric years ago, before starting at Hogwarts even. My mother had let me stay and play at the park one day after she had completed her shopping. He was having a sword fight with himself with two sticks from off the ground. He invited me to play with him and I wanted to, so I did. My father never let me play with any children that weren't the sons and daughters of his friends, and I liked the idea of keeping someone as my secret friend. When I wanted to play with him, I would tell my mother that I was out practicing flying – she let me do that over the lake sometimes – or went out in the woods to fool around like little boys often do. She accepted it without a care. My father never found out somehow, I guess they never discussed it. But the summer before my – our – first year of Hogwarts, my father had me stay in more often and study. Sometimes it was basic wizardry, so that I wouldn't make him look like a fool for being stupid, he said. Sometimes it was lessons on manners and my place in society. I had already known Eric for years by then, so he somehow found a different classification than other Muggles. But with time, and more lessons from my father, I saw Eric less and less and began to think he was the same."

When I paused, Hermione gave me a questioning look. She called my name to catch my attention from where it had wandered. After a shallow sigh, I continued. "But after a while, my father grew even more commanding, more controlling over every part of my life. I hated it. And then the mess at the Ministry happened."

I watched her squirm a bit, wondering what thoughts went through her mind as the fight from a few weeks ago popped up. How did she think I felt about her and Potter and Weasley and all of them putting my father in prison? Often times at night, I would stare up at the ceiling and ask myself the same question. I didn't know how to feel. He was my father, my family, the man who raised me. But he also had been so different in the past few years, had treated me different.

"Just two weeks ago, a few days after returning from school, I met up with Eric again. See, with my father away, I felt I had two choices: I could spend my entire summer stewing over how to get revenge on my father's behalf, or I could do what I had never been given the opportunity to do when he was home – whatever I wanted. If my mother had been crying when I got home, I don't think I could have chosen what I did. But nothing was going on, no one would talk to me, so I chose option two. That day, I went to the park and ended up finding Eric. I didn't care he was a Muggle. A part of me was even happier that he was. It just showed me how I really was out of my father's grasp. You don't understand what it's like to live with him. It's –"

No word seemed to match it. Nothing I could say would properly represent what it was like to live with that man who paraded around as my father. I knew what it was like to live with my father. The father of my childhood would play with me, teach me, love me. But then… he disappeared. There wasn't a soul on the planet I missed more than that of my father.

"I suppose it would be awful, wouldn't it?" she filled in the silence by offering. I tilted my head downward slightly, imitating a nod as my mind emptied and spun with thoughts all at once.

"The worse part," I heard a soft, low voice that sounded a bit like my own confide, "is remembering when he wasn't like that. Wondering if he could have been that man all throughout my life if something had changed, if Potter hadn't been in my year, if Potter hadn't gotten everything my father wanted a son of his to accomplish, if the pressure from the other families hadn't fallen so hard onto his shoulders with the mess Potter created."

I couldn't look at her then. I had just blamed one of her best friends for the problems in my life and basically expressed my hatred for him. I definitely hadn't planned on doing so, but somehow the words came out before asking permission.

"It wasn't his fault, you know," she whispered after a moment.

"But it would be so easy if it was," I responded. As I stared out at the night sky, I heard a movement right before I felt her hand consolingly running my and down my back. Wishing the world would just melt away, I closed my eyes and leaned into her. To my surprise, it did.


	13. Of Unconscious Comforts and Soft Kisses

**Disclaimer: If I were JKR, I doubt I'd be a Dramione shipper. Just with what she wrote for canon and all… So I guess that leaves me to be a crazy fan writing fanfic.**

**A/N: I'm so sorry that I didn't post last weekend! I had some personal issues and they really preoccupied me. Anyway, here is the promised chapter. I hope you like it!**

When I had gone out that evening, I hadn't expected the run into Draco, but as I sat there in the grass, comforting him after he told me about his family life, I was incredibly glad I did. Just that small amount of time explained so much about the person I had seen so often but understood so rarely these past days. There was something soothing in calming him, like I somehow was bringing myself comfort rather than another person. It was a strange feeling like no other I had ever experienced, but a good kind of strange.

I couldn't give a number for how long we had sat there, and although it didn't feel like a lengthy period of time, we stayed out late enough to witness the stars appear. One by one, the sparkles of light broke through the cover of darkness. Even more slowly, the constellations they created began to take form.

Despite how much my brain would normally be twisting and processing new information immediately after receiving it, I found myself to be drained from all thoughts, simply not caring about anything in the world at that moment enough to actually think about it. The word that would best describe it would have to be… content.

I was content.

But just as gradually as the faraway stars, thoughts started to seep into my brain, reminding me of the time, recording Draco's words into my mind to properly reanalyze my opinion of him, nudging questions of why I felt these bizarre emotions with Draco Malfoy of all people.

"You should go home," he whispered to break the silence that had settled between us.

"I know," I responded, not making any sort of motion at all to move and act on his suggestion.

"I should go home, too," he continued to push.

"I bet your mother is worried about you," I replied, still not making any movements. Then, something occurred to me.

"How does your mother feel about all this?" I asked, turning to look directly at him. He stiffened and his eyes refused to meet mine.

After a moment's silence, he muttered, "I don't want to talk about it."

Taken back by his sudden coldness, I prodded, "Why? Is she – did she change as well?"

"I said I don't what to talk about it," he responded firmly, his jaw clenched tight. I lifted a hand to lay on his shoulder, but he shrugged me away.

"Do you not get along?" I questioned, partially wondering it in my head and only half meaning to say it aloud.

"Are you deaf?" he demanded, rotating his head to glare at me directly. Even though I could hear his words, it was the hurt in his eyes that struck me the most. "I said I don't want to talk about it!"

When he stood up abruptly, I felt the guilt starting to nibble inside of me. I shouldn't have pushed. Following suit, I raised to my feet and walked softly over to where he had stopped.

"I'm sorry," I told him when I reached his side.

Eyes closed, a sigh escaped his mouth that expressed all the troubles he was dealing with inside. I bit my lip as I waited for him to respond.

"It's okay," he told me.

"No, it's not," I corrected him.

He looked over at me. "No," he agreed. "It isn't." Releasing another sigh that shuttered through his body, he dragged a hand through his hair as his shoulder fell into a sag. The sight of him so upset had me biting my lip and fiddling with my fingers.

"I haven't talked to her since coming home," he confided, still facing the empty space of grass and sky.

His confession shocked me. I couldn't imagine not having my father with me either, but not speaking with my mother… No wonder he never had any conflicting plans whenever the four of us discussed the next time we would hang out. Unconsciously, my hand sought out his, something I didn't realize until I felt his thumb brush across my skin a couple times in gratitude.

Shortly thereafter, he offered to walk me home. Accepting, I maintained my clutch on his hand when he attempted to drop it, to both his surprise and my own. As I did so, he shot me a questioning look, but I ignored it and transferred my gaze to my feet. Pulling me gently, he guided us down the path out of the park. Unable to resist, I sneaked a glance over a few moments after we had started walking. He wore a soft smile.

As we strolled down the street, my thoughts revolved around the fingers that were tangled up in mine. I didn't know why I had insisted on holding onto him, or why I was feeling so comfortable doing so. These strange emotions were rather frightening, not to mention very confusing. In one of those rare moments, I had no idea what to do.

Although my mind was very busy turning and churning the thoughts it held, I did notice when Draco started gently swinging our arms ever so slightly. Drawing me out of my thoughts, it also brought a smile to my face. It must have been one of those smiles that are so big that you can hear them, because Draco turned to look at me. Upon seeing the grin on my face, his eyes shone.

"You make me happy," he blurted out. With that, the smiles on both of our faces dissolved. Looking away, he pulled his hand away and stuffed them in his pockets, a blush I could spot in the poor lighting of the night colored his skin. I was sure that my flesh was just as flushed.

"I mean…" he stumbled, trying to find a way to fix what he blurted out. It was funny. And… cute.

"I know it's weird," I told him, walking in front of him. Although the heat had yet to fade from my face, I knew I also had a smile joining it. Without thinking about what I was about to say, I looked up at him, placing a hand on his shoulder. "But you make me happy, too."

He looked at me then, and I couldn't describe the feelings I could see in him. Nor could I describe the feelings I could feel in me. My mind felt gloriously empty yet seemed to overflow with something I couldn't identify all at once. All I could do is stare at the swirling colors of his eyes, wondering what he was thinking about. He opened his mouth, like he was going to respond, but nothing came out.

I couldn't even tell Emily if she asked what happened next. I don't know if it was me, or him, or both of us, or if a pair of rude joggers pushed one of us.

All I know is that somehow his lips and my lips ended up meeting in the softest kiss I've ever known.


	14. Of Pale Confrontations and Bite Marks

**A/N: Can I say sorry again? I really am. I just had midterms over the past two weeks and the week before that I went out of town and crammed the entire weekend so full of family time that we didn't even get to all of that. But I had some time this week, so I prepped this chapter and a few new things for posting! And I **_**promise **_**that the next chapter will be up next weekend! Meanwhile, here's this one!**

Nothing seemed to make sense in that moment, but nothing needed to. I was kissing Hermione Granger, and it felt _right. _I couldn't say when my eyes had closed, when my hand had cupped her face, even when our lips had first touched. But I knew my eyes had to be closed (because I saw her face as if I was standing a meter away rather than mere centimeters), I knew my hand had to be cupping her face (because I could feel her incredibly soft skin that felt more soothing than cashmere or silk), and I knew for a surety that my lips had to be on hers (because it was at my lips that this wonderful feeling began, spreading warmth and affection and joy rushing throughout my body).

After a moment that could have spanned eternity, she pulled back slightly, just enough to sever the connection. Her eyelids still blocked my sight of the emotions her eyes would have told me, and I realized that I wasn't sure if I wanted to see those emotions. Did she…?

"Merlin," I whispered, pulling back further. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean… I mean…" A heavy sigh escaped my mouth as I bit my lip, not being able to look at those confused eyes with a hint of hurt swirling within them. "I shouldn't have done that."

Turning around, I wondered if it would be better to wait for a response or just run on home. Just when I was about to take a step away, she spoke.

"It's okay. You didn't… I mean, it wasn't your…" I turned around, trying to figure out what she was going to say. Of course it was my fault! I _kissed _her! I made her, I forced her. Why wasn't she angrily yelling at me? Why was she looking so shy and small and fiddling with her fingers like that?

"I wanted to, too," she admitted softly, finally bringing her eyes back to mine. For a few seconds, my mind was blank, shocked to speechlessness at her confession.

"Oh," I answered awkwardly. "Er, okay then."

Silence blanketed us as I stared at my hands, refusing to look up at her.

"Is that offer still good?" she asked quietly. I sent a questioning look her way, and she explained, "To walk me home?"

"Oh," I repeated, feeling horribly stupid for not having a working brain at the moment. "Yeah, of course." As soon as we started walking down the path once more, the thought struck me that maybe she didn't want me there. "Unless you don't want…"

"Don't be ridiculous," she chided, flashing me a small smile. When her hand grasped for mine, I let them rejoin as we walked down the path out of the park. My brain wanted nothing more than to sit down and do some serious thinking, but I ignored that pressing desire to chat casually with the girl at my side. More than anything, I was amazed at how relieved I felt as we joked and teased like nothing had changed. Perhaps nothing needed to really change for this… well, whatever this was. It didn't need to tear down our old (er, new) relationship as friends to bloom; maybe it would build upon the friendship we had strangely developed over the past two weeks.

Or maybe I was getting ahead of myself. I really needed to sit down and think.

As soon as a made a mental note for myself to dwell on this subject once at home, Hermione stopped. Blinking once in surprise, I realized that we had already reached her house.

"Thanks," she said, giving me a smile.

"No problem," I responded, wondering when I should let go of her hand. Did she expect me to say something? Did she expect me to kiss her again? Did I want to?

Before I had time to do anything, she dropped her hold on my hand to cup my face and reached up to lay a soft kiss on my cheek. Lingering near my ear, she whispered, "You really do make me happy."

Dumbstruck, all I could do was stared into her eyes for the fraction they remained locked with mine and then watched her retreat inside. When she gaze me a quick wave and slight smile before closing the door, I lifted my arm automatically, even though she couldn't see it through the wood. After standing still for a few more seconds, I turned around and headed towards my own house. Rotating my head around to look one last time at the building that held the girl I had somehow grown to care about, a grin spread across my face.

Echoes seem to travel down the large hallway, reminding me a thousand times over that I had actually gone through with it and knocked on my mother's door. Doing that much had my heart banging against my rib cage, since I was explicitly taught not to disturb Mother or Father at their room. But Father wasn't there, and since my mother wanted to speak with me but I couldn't find her among her favorite gardens or rooms, their room was my last guess.

"Mother?" I asked hesitantly. Rustling and the tread of footsteps sounded on the other side, coming closer and closer until the barrier was drawn back to reveal the figure of my mother.

Except it didn't really look like my mother. Or at least, not how she usually looked. Her hair was unkempt, bags layered the skin beneath her eyes, her skin seemed paler than the last time I had seen her – at King's Cross mere weeks ago.

"Draco?" she questioned, as if she didn't believe I was there. Her voice was light, not in the happy way, but like something had leeched most of the air from her lungs. The look on her face right then almost brought me to my knees. _I_ had done this to her, _I_ had dragged her down to such a state. "Draco," she repeated, overjoyed. She threw her arms around my neck and literally fell lightly.

Unable to control them any longer, I felt water build in my eyes as a weight settled in my throat. Wrapping my arms around her frailer than normal body, I vowed not to ever do this to her again. Stumbling around the lead in my throat that made swallowing hurt, I managed to mumble, "I'm so sorry, Mum."

"No," she responded, voice heavy with emotion and cracking slightly. She pulled back somewhat, just enough to look my in the face. Tears streamed freely down her cheeks, sparking the release of one of my own. "No, Draco. It's not your fault, sweetie," she told me, shaking her head slightly and brushing away the streaks on my skin, leaving her own untouched. "Don't ever think that."

"I don't mean Dad, Mum," I protested, breaking my hold on her to find a little room. "I mean you. I… I haven't… I let you…"

"Neither of them are your fault, Draco. _Neither of them. _Don't… don't think that, okay?" she practically begged me. Her eyes pleaded for me not to feel guilty for this thing I had done. I hadn't realized how much I was affecting my mother by completely ignoring her. Especially _now_, at this time, when her husband was in Azkaban… I, her _son_, wasn't there for her. I failed my own mother.

"I didn't know," I told her, needing her to know it. "I didn't know what it was doing to you."

"It's okay," she assured me. But the tears still sparkling in her eyes – those eyes that drooped with black rings from crying mixed with a lack of sleep – revealed how deep of a lie her words were.

"No, it's not," I insisted, angrily wiping at my eyes. "It's not okay, Mum."

"But it will be," she promised, bringing up the smallest of smiles – the smile of a last hope – to give to me. "That's what matters."

I sunk against the wall with the burden of that smile, bringing my hands to my face as I gave into the emotions overflowing within me. Milliseconds after I reached the ground, I felt her arms encase me. Comforting words floated over me that I didn't hear, but the tone, the voice, was enough.

Eventually, after a long period of time that seemed to stretch into the night, my sobs had quieted. Only the soundless caressing of my mother's comforting hand on my shoulder permeated my senses.

"How did this happen?" I asked, drained and exhausted in every possible way.

"I ask myself that, too, honey," my mother replied gently. I couldn't remember the last time she had used these terms of endearment so freely. And so often.

"But why did they let it?" I pushed, needing an answer to the question that had been pestering me for the past weeks.

"Why did who let it?" she asked.

"Them, the world," I responded. "Me. Us. Why did we let it happen?"

"Oh, Draco," she whispered. "It's not that simple. Some things can't be stopped."

"Why, Mum? Why did it have to be us?" I pleaded for her to provide insight. Something happened, we were cursed, maybe. Or punished. Was it punishment?

"There are no reasons for some things," she replied morosely. "Sometimes you get bit by an insect, sometimes you manage to keep the flower. We have to have some bite marks."

"But I don't see any flowers, Mum," I insisted, still staring at the walls. "Why don't we get any flowers?"

"Of course you have flowers, sweetie," she answered, voice cracking with emotion as a smile broke through to her face for a moment. I watched as it struggled to stay, flickering back and forth with sorrow. "You have me, and you have your friends, and you have school. You're young, you're healthy, you're strong, you're loved."

Before she even began listing the other flowers in my life, I thought of one. As soon as I asked her that question, an image of Hermione flashed before my eyes. With the words of my mother hovering in the air and the vision of a smiling girl fastened in my mind, my worries drifted away.

"You'll see, Draco," my mother whispered. "In the end, the flowers make the bites worth it. You'll see."


	15. Of Phone Plans and Official Dates

**Disclaimer: I've been trying to sneak into JKR's basement to free Harry and Draco and everyone else, but my psychiatrist took away my super strength required to help them escape, so I'm pretty much screwed. And they're pretty much still the property of JKR.**

**A/N: Sorry for the lateness, guys; I've been incredibly busy lately. I spent the past week studying for two tests and revamping the earlier chapters of this story, as well as giving into a plot bunny for a different story (yet to be posted and in a different fandom). This past weekend, I did absolutely nothing and it was wonderful. But not so much for you all and that's all my fault.**

**Anyhow, enough about me. Here's the chappie. Hope you enjoy!**

"Good morning, Dad," I greeted as I entered the kitchen, pulling down the lever on the toaster on the counter, not bothering to watch the bread that my mother had already set inside for me sink inside as I retrieved a cup from the cupboard.

"Morning, sweetheart," he greeted, looking up from the novel he was currently reading. Glancing at the title, I discovered it was the third installment of a fictional series I had recommended him at the beginning of the month. As I thought back on the details of the story, I placed some eggs and bacon from the frying pan on a plate. When I sat at the table with my plate of food and cup of orange juice, he parted from his book again.

"Aren't we in a good mood this morning," he observed with a grin. Since the customary pop shot through the air at that moment, I shot him a smile in return as I stood up to grab my toast.

"You can say that," I responded as I sat back down.

"Have a good walk last night?" Dad asked as I bit into my toast. Mouth full of said food, I just nodded. "What time did you get in?"

"Around 11. Draco walked me home," I informed him, expecting the look he gave me then.

"You said you were going out alone," he reminded me, holding out his book in a manner that meant he wasn't planning to return to it until the conversation went in a separate direction.

"I did," I told him nonchalantly as I ground some pepper onto my eggs. "I happened to knock into Draco while I was out."

"Okay," he said, not looking quite like he believed me. That's my protective dad. "What did you two do?"

"Just talk, eat some ice cream," I reported honestly. Well, leaving out the whole kiss thing, because that would just be awkward. When my dad gave me the 'I used the _just talk _excuse when I was your age' look, I sighed, putting down my toast to admit, "He's having problems at home. I guess I was someone he could talk to."

_After I pushed him into telling me, _I thought to myself. Immediately, my dad's protective field expanded to include this boy he didn't know. I almost felt guilty for using that knowledge to my advantage, but Draco really was having family issues, so I didn't feel too bad.

"How serious of problems?" he asked, concern lacing his tone.

"Nothing he can't take care of on his own, Dad," I assured him, even though I didn't quite know that for fact. But for some reason, I had this feeling that Draco was stronger than I thought, perhaps even than he thought.

Whatever my dad might have said in response was cut off by the ringing of the phone. Seeing as I was nearest to its resting place on the counter, I stood up to get it.

"Hello?" I answered as always.

"Hey, Mia," I heard Em's voice respond. "You up for a game night at my house tonight?"

"Sure. Wait, let me ask Dad." Pressing my hand to the speaker, I asked my dad if it was all right with him. He just nodded his approval. "Yeah, sounds fun."

"Awesome," Emily replied on the other end.

"The guys coming?" I asked casually.

"Haven't called them yet. I'll give you a ring with an answer later," she offered.

"Okay," I agreed. Then a thought occurred to me. Did the Malfoys own a telephone? I couldn't imagine so. Lucius Malfoy, allowing a completely Muggle device inside the boundaries of his own home? Not likely. As in the kind of not-likely that really means _Nu-uh, no way, no how, not now, not ever_. "Do you have Draco's number?"

"Er… I don't know," Emily admitted, the sound of rustling papers littering the background. I bit my lip, knowing she didn't have one and not knowing if Draco gave Eric any way of even contacting him.

Times like these made me wish I had an owl.

"Okay. Well, just call me when you know," I told her, wondering how this was all going to play out.

"Will do," she replied, sounding rather distracted.

After hanging up the phone, I finished off my eggs and put my plate in the sink, carrying my cup and the remainder of my toast with me to my room.

"I'm going to study for a bit," I told my dad as I headed out of the room. Seeing he was back to his book, I just smiled to myself and continued down the hall.

Later in the morning, my studying was interrupted by a familiar tapping on my window. Surprised that Harry and Ron would have written back so quickly, I did not expect to see an eagle owl behind the glass. Not Harry or Ron, then. But who did I know that owned an eagle owl and would write to me?

Letting the bird inside, I sat down at my desk to read the attached note.

_Hermione,_

_I was hoping that I could talk to you this afternoon about last night. Can we meet at the park around 1?_

_ Let me know,_

_ DM_

My brain must have still been in shock, because Draco's bird started to prod my arm after a moment.

"Right," I spoke out loud to myself. "Write back."

Taking in a deep breath, I retrieved my quill and ink, deciding to write below his message instead of taking out another piece of parchment. Now, what to write…

It was awkward, thinking about how I should write a note back. Do I write his name? Do I use a salutation? Did I sign in letters, like he did? Should I write about anything other than meeting up? After quite a bit of thought, I wrote:

_I'll be there._

_HG_

I stared at it for a bit longer. The thought had come into my mind of asking him about the game night tonight at Emily's at the same time, but I figured that I could ask him about that in person later this afternoon. Was it too plain though? Too simple and to the point?

Finally, I tied the note around his owl's leg and watched it fly away before I could give in to any second thoughts, knowing that if I bothered, a pile of crumbled up pieces of paper would soon appear on my floor. Trying to push such nonsensical worries out of my mind, I returned to my book, _Curses and Cures_.

One hour, forty pages, and a hundred and twenty glances at the clock later, I decided to give up on the interesting book and get ready to leave. It was only half past noon, but I was growing so restless inside my room.

With both Mum and Dad at work, there was no one in the house to talk to say goodbye to before leaving, so I just walked out the door, locking it behind me. I bought a sandwich at the deli a few blocks from the park and enjoyed it while sitting on a park bench. While I ate, I watched the people around me.

Giggling at how a pair of twins kept racing down the slide, I didn't really notice that Draco had come up and sat beside me. I know he had been there for a while because he was as captured into the toddlers' world as I was. Just looking at the expression on his face brought a different kind of soft smile to mine.

"What?" he asked when he noticed that I had been staring at him.

"Nothing," I insisted with grin, shaking my head slightly. Shooting me a glance that shouted how much he didn't believe him, I tried to seem innocent. Somehow, I don't think he bought it.

"So what did you want to talk about?" I asked softly, still looking at him. When my words entered the air, he quickly tore away his gaze, returning it to the careless twins on the playground.

"I… er, I wanted to…" he trailed off, obviously struggling to find the right words. "Did you mean what you said last night?"

Suddenly I found his eyes drilling into mine again, and though there was a slight wall built up beneath their surface, I could tell how serious this question was for him.

"Yes," I admitted, not wanting to lie about something like this. After all, it made me smile. I hated lying about something that brought me such joy; it seemed like twice the sin. "I don't know why, but yes."

Like there. Seeing his eyes brighten and his lips curl into a smile filled me with the most wonderful feeling in the world.

"Okay then," he whispered, I think talking mostly to himself. A though cam to my mind. A reminder.

"We're having a game night at Emily's tonight," I informed him softly. "Wanna join us?"

"Sure," he accepted. His eyes darted around for a moment before he spoke again. "Er, Hermione?"

"Yeah?" I encouraged when he paused again.

"Do you, er… do you want to go catch a movie?" he asked nervously.

"Is Draco Malfoy asking me out on a date?" I asked with a grin.

"No!" he insisted. "Not a date. Like a date, maybe, but… not."

"Okay then," I replied, still grinning. We stood up simultaneously and started walking down the path. When I asked him what his favorite card game was, his response of Exploding Snap led to an amusing conversation about his introduction to Muggle card and board games tonight.

And just like that, everything was comfortable again.

Two hours later, we emerged from the cinema laughing and pointing out our favorite parts of the movie. It sure had been a good idea to see that comedy.

"You hungry?" Draco offered as we passed a deli.

"A little," I admitted, following him into shop.

"What do you want?" he asked, looking up to the menu board.

"Hmmm, I'm not sure yet," I replied, narrowing down to the choices to the appealing Rueben and the simple BLT.

"Are you ready to order, sir?" the man behind the counter asked politely.

"Yes, I'd like a BLT," Draco responded. Perhaps it's telling of how much I was still getting used to Draco being so… not like the rude, degrading, offensive, immature boy I used to know. Well, not really know. I was starting to realize I probably didn't know him at all.

"And you, miss?"

"Oh, the same, please," I answered automatically. When I noticed that Draco offered the man enough money for both of us, I pushed an amount appropriate for my sandwich towards him instead, but he refused to take it.

"You better watch out," I warned teasingly. "Paying for me again pushed this awfully close to a real date."

"Well," he began slowly. "It could be."

I looked up at him, adoring the way his eyes seemed so anxious and nervous, like they longed to dart around and divert their gaze. I'd never imagine even a month ago that Draco Malfoy could seem so unconfident around me, because of me.

"If you, er, if you want, that is," he finished, fiddling with his hands again. Gently, I took his hands in mine.

"I think I'd like that."


	16. Of Disapproving Mums and Yummy Cookies

**Disclaimer: Harry Potter is a brilliant, wonderful, amazing, magical fandom that I wish I could take credit for. But I can't.**

**A/N: Sorry for the long wait! I was going to update last weekend, but it was so busy that I never had time to do anything not family related! So, here is the next chappie. These things are getting longer now though, just like I promised! **

**Anyhow, hope you enjoy!**

Once I had finally gotten around to asking Hermione if I could date her in the actual words, I felt all that nervous tension leave and was able to act more like myself. By the time I dropped her off at her house, we were joking and laughing again.

"See you at Em's?" she asked, both reminding me and ensuring my attendance.

"Of course," I replied. "What time?"

"Oh," she uttered, eyebrows crunching as she thought hard. The expression on she wore, with her lips pressed together tightly and eyes seeing past everything visible in front of her, brought a small smile to my face. "I'm not sure."

"Well, why don't you owl me?" I suggested.

"Okay," she agreed. "Oh, wait, I don't have an owl."

"You don't?" I asked, genuinely surprised. When she shook her head, I offered to send her a note in a couple of hours. After dropping a kiss to her cheek, I bid her goodbye and made my way back home.

"Good afternoon, Draco," my mother greeted me as I walked through the gardens. Not expecting for her to be there, it took me by surprise.

"Oh, hi, mum," I returned, turning to face her. She looked even more pale in the sunlight, but at least she was smiling.

"How was your day?" I asked conversationally, leaning against the iron fence. Her eyes brightened when she realized I was going to stay to talk with her. It made me feel horrible.

"Fine," she reported. "Good. How was yours?"

"It's been pretty good," I replied honestly. "I'm going out again tonight."

"Oh, that's… that's wonderful, Draco," she told me, even though her eyebrows had contracted and a frown had flirted with her mouth for a moment. Then she seemed uneasy, like she wanted to break into a subject she wasn't sure I wanted to touch. I knew that look, because it was the one she wore every time she asked me about school when I returned home for break in a foul mood or after either of us had a fight with my father.

The realization hit me right before she actually voiced the question.

"Where is it that you're going, Draco?" she inquired in a pleading tone.

"A friend's house," I replied generally. When I saw her face fall slightly, I knew she was hoping I would tell her what I had been doing this entire time whenever I left the Manor, so I gave in. "She's a Muggle. I've been spending my time with Muggles."

I waited for her expression to respond and felt a weight drop in my stomach as her body tensed.

"Oh," she uttered in shock. Still frozen, she diverted her gaze to the background. "Draco…"

"They're nice people, Mum," I insisted fervently. "I _like _being around them—"

"But Draco, they're _Muggles_!" she interrupted, raising her voice for the first time since I had gotten home. Even that seemed to knock the wind out of her, but it was her words that snagged the wind from me.

"I'm not going to stop just because you don't approve," I declared icily, glaring into her determined face. Before she could protest again, I stormed away towards the Manor, ignoring the single call of my name.

Pushing open the front doors, I stomped my way up the stairs, mentally kicking myself for even thinking she would have reacted any differently.

When she knocked on my door a short while later, I simply laid still on my bed, not moving. The repeating thought in my head was the wish that she would just go away. But she didn't. She kept knocking. When she called my name again, I ignored her.

All of the sudden, the noise stopped. After a few moments of complete silence, I could hear retreating footsteps.

I couldn't help but regret telling my mother that Emily and Eric were Muggles, even though another part of me was glad I had. I should have known that she would react the way she had. I actually expected more yelling.

Then again, there was plenty of time left for her to stick some more of that in.

All the thoughts about my mother's disapproval and how much more trouble I would have found myself in had my father been around swirled around my head, threatening to suffocate me. With a shout of frustration, I jumped off my bed and pushed them away as I walked over to my desk.

_Relax. _That's what I needed to do. _Relax._

Taking in a deep breath, I let my eyes flutter shut momentarily before opening them again with a clear mind. Retrieving my pen and a scrap piece of parchment, I started to write a note to Hermione.

_Dear Hermione,_

No, that didn't feel quite right. I squirmed in my chair for a second before crumpling up the paper and tossing it aside.

_Hermione,_

_ Hope the rest of your day was better than mine. Just let me know when._

_Draco_

That one definitely wasn't getting sent. How stupid would I be to write her about the fight I had with my mother? Then she'd ask questions I didn't want to answer in person, much less via owl. Rolling that one into a ball as well, I pulled out another scrap.

_Hermione,_

_ Let me know when I'll be seeing you again._

_Looking forward to it,_

_DM_

Scowling at the cheesy way that seemed to sound, my fried brain delved into thinking about the correct way to address and sign a letter to one's … date? girlfriend? whatever she was. Was it bad to use my initials?

Deciding I didn't care, but still not wanting to send such a gushy note, I wadded up the scrap and took out one last piece of paper.

_Hermione,_

_ Let me know when._

_Looking forward to it,_

_DM_

Before my scrambled mind could dissect the horrors of this copy, I rolled up the note and tied it to Aderyn's legs.

"_Hermione,"_ I whispered softly to her. "Same as yesterday."

After watching her fly away, I retrieved my broom, longing to find the same escape that she had. Letting the wind slap against my face without a thought about the earth below me always allowed me to grasp a sense of something I longed for.

Freedom.

"Hello," Samantha greeted as she opened the door for me. Although I had felt a bit awkward walking over to her house by myself, the feeling seemed to disappear when Emily's sister and her brilliant smile with the left front tooth missing appeared.

"Someone lost a tooth," I remarked with a smile.

"Yup!" she exclaimed happily. "And the tooth fairy gave me a whole pound!"

"Wow, that's a whole bunch," I replied, even though I really had pretty much no idea how Muggle money worked.

"Yup!"

"Oh, hey, Draco!" Emily said as she entered the front hall. "Mia's in the kitchen and Eric should be here any minute."

"Okay," I responded, heading for the kitchen. Since I had only been to her house once before, it took me a few moments to recall which turn to take. When I walked through the doorway, I spotted Hermione bending down to collect the tray of freshly baked cookies from the oven. The sight brought a smirk to my face as I leaned against the wooden frame.

"Do I get some?" I asked casually, nearly laughing when she practically jumped out of her socks turning around.

"Oh, it's just you," she remarked, turning back around to place the tray on the stove. Walking into the room so I stood next to her, I sarcastically commented, "Just me? I feel so loved."

"Oh, knock it off," she replied in a teasing tone with a grin. When I reached for one of the cookies off of the pan, she swatted my hand.

"Hey," I protested, pouting.

"Those pouting lips of yours don't work on me," she proclaimed, scooping rounds of cookie dough onto another pan.

"Really?" I replied slyly, raising an eyebrow. She rolled her eyes as she handed me the tray.

"Put it in the oven, will you?" she directed, the twinkling in her eyes and slight blush to her cheeks speaking a different language that conveyed another message.

"What's in it for me?" I inquired playfully.

"Maybe a cookie," she returned with a grin. Immediately I slipped the tray in the oven with one hand, bringing her laughter into the air. With the other hand, I reached for one of the cookies still on the pan she had brought out seconds earlier. But again, I received a slap before I could get my prize.

"Take one of the cooled ones," she instructed.

"But I want one of these ones," I whined, forming my mouth into a pout again (because, even if she denied it, I knew it had an affect on her).

"Fine," she relented with a smile and roll of her eyes. "But at least use the spatula."

"Deal," I replied, accepting the warm cookie from her hand.

"You make good cookies," I remarked after taking a bite.

"Emily and I make good cookies," she corrected. "But I'm glad you approve."

"Don't you want one?" I asked after she watched me finish off my own.

"Nah, I'll wait," she said, checking the clock to see how much time the ones in the oven had left.

"Come on," I urged. "You know you want one."

"No, really," she insisted. Nevertheless, I took the spatula from her and lifted another one off the pan that was still hot to the touch.

"Yes, you do," I retorted, waving the cookie in front of her mouth. "You want the cookie. You know you want the cookie."

"Draco!" she exclaimed, pushing my hand away from her face.

"Open up," I demanded. "Come on, Hermione…"

With another roll of her eyes, she opened her smiling mouth and let me slide a bit of the treat inside.

"Happy now?" she asked after swallowing her small bite.

"Not quite," I admitted before lowering my face to hers and laying a kiss on her lips. Right then, I decided that those cookies tasted even better on her lips.

"Can I have a cookie now, mummy?" I heard Samantha's voice ask in the hallway.

"You'll have to ask Hermione," their mother answered. "She's in the kitchen."

"Yay! Hermione! Hermione!" the little girl called, running into the room before I could register the conversation and break apart from the girl in question. When I did so, I smirked at the pink tint on her skin.

"Yes, Sammie?" she replied, clearing her throat quietly. In vain, I tried to rid my face of the grin it held as I leaned against the counter.

"Can I have a cookie?" the little girl asked excitedly, blond curls bouncing.

"What's the magic–"

"Please?" she finished, looking up at us with sparkling eyes.

"Of course," Hermione answered, turning to the tray of cookies, which were now cool enough to remove, and picked up the spatula.

"Are you dating?" the little girl asked innocently. Even as my eyes widened at the unexpected question, I had to struggle not to laugh at how Hermione dropped the spatula to the counter and almost dropped Samantha's cookie as well.

"What makes you say that?" Hermione questioned nervously.

"You were kissing," the girl replied matter-of-factly. "Emmy says that's what people do when they're dating."

After watching Hermione sputter for a moment, I bent down to the blonde's height and confided, "We're dating, but you can't tell Emily or Eric yet, okay?"

"Is it a secret?" she asked in an eager whisper.

"Kind of," I replied, glancing at Hermione from the corner of my eye. She was smiling now, so that much was good.

"I'm good at keeping secrets!" she proclaimed proudly. "Can I have my cookie now?"

"Of course," Hermione responded, snapping out of her frozen state and handing the girl her cookie.

"Thank you, Hermione," she replied, climbing up to the stool by the counter. "Can I have a glass of milk, too?"

"Sure," Hermione answered, sending her a smile before getting the milk from the fridge. As she did, I noticed that there were a few blank spots on the collage of Samantha's paintings. When Hermione reached for a cup in the cupboard, she noticed the time and exclaimed, "Oh, the cookies are done!"

"I'll get them," I offered, grabbing the square of fabric that she had used to take the other pan out of the oven earlier.

"Thanks!" Samantha exclaimed as Hermione set down the glass of milk in front of her.

"You're very welcome," the messy-haired brunette replied. Then she turned to me and slid on a small smile. "Thanks."

"You're very welcome," I echoed, smiling at her. Halfway through filling up another tray with the remaining bits of dough, a knock on the front door was heard through the house. A few seconds later, Eric and Emily joined us in the kitchen.

"Hey, guys," Eric greeted us.

"Hey," we both responded simultaneously.

"Hello, goose," he said to Samantha with a ruffle of her hair. "Did you make cookies?"

"No, Hermione and Emily did," she corrected.

"Oh, are they yummy?" he asked.

"Very yummy!" she assured him, bringing a round of laughter to the room.

"Thanks, Sammie," Emily responded with a grin.

"I think I need to test this opinion," Eric insisted, grabbing a cookie. After shoving it in his mouth, he proclaimed, "I think I need another taste."

As Emily struggled to stop Eric from swiping another cookie (and failed) and tried to keep him from eating said cookie, I took advantage of the distraction and grasped Hermione's hand, bringing it to my lips for a light kiss. She blushed as Emily scolded a laughing Eric and it brought a smile to my face.


	17. Of Dancing Dracos and Dating Secrets

**Disclaimer: All I want for Christmas is Harry Potter. But I doubt Santa would go and steal the property of JKR just to make my wish come true. He was pretty adamant about that last year…**

**A/N: Wow! My longest chapter yet! And I finished it super early in the week! Anyhow, here's the next chapter. Hope you enjoy! Please tell whether you do or don't!**

"Uno!" Emily shouted quickly after laying down her second to last card.

"Fudge drumstick," Eric muttered in response, glancing over the eighteen cards in his hand.

"Your turn," Emily reminded him in a sing-song voice. I groaned when he laid down a draw four wild card and declared the color green.

"You seriously have no reds in your entire collection?" I whined, picking up four cards from the draw pile.

"Sadly, no," he replied, scowling at his cards.

"Uno!" Draco yelled, putting down his card and doing a funny-looking victory dance while still sitting down. All three of us stared at him incredulously before bursting out in laughter. Blissfully ignorant, he finished up his dance before declaring his absolute love for the game.

"That's just 'cause you got lucky this hand," Eric pointed out.

"Luck has nothing to do with it," Draco retorted confidently. His puffed out chest became the target for multiple popcorn pieces with that statement. "Hold fire!"

"Stop being such a drama queen," I teased as he brushed the bits off of his shirt and out of his hair.

"King," he shot back with a grin.

"So, I notice _someone _didn't excitingly throw down their card and scream victory and do their own little dance," Eric remarked to Emily, snorting at the end with the mention of Draco's performance a few seconds ago.

"Ugh," Emily eloquently replied with a disappointed sigh.

"Oh, that's right! Pick the card, Em, pick the card," Eric taunted.

"At least I don't have over a dozen," she taunted back as she picked up her card from the draw pile and scowled at it.

"Well, if I _someone _wouldn't have given me a hundred Draw 2s…" he replied with a pointed look while laying down a green 8. I laughed as I looked at my hand, debating whether I should play the green 7 or the blue 8. Selecting the higher card, not a moment after I had stacked my card upon the pile, Draco's card flew to a flutter onto, revealing itself to be a yellow 8.

"I win!" he declared happily, starting his strange victory dance again.

"Aw, Mia!" Emily whined, dropping her own two cards – a yellow Reverse and red 6. "You're supposed to be on my team!"

"Like I was supposed to know what his card would be," I replied.

"Good point," she conceded, breaking into a grin before laughing again at Draco's dance, which was now being performed while standing.

"I win, I win, I won, I won, I'm the winner, I'm the winner…" he chanted to himself.

"Someone needs to pop that ego," Eric declared, throwing a pillow at the still dancing Draco, who smirked as he replied, "You're just jealous because I won."

"I think we need to play a different game," Emily decided, sweeping the more than fifty-two cards into a pile.

"And restock the cookie supply," Eric added, holding up the plate empty of everything but crumbs.

"What game should be next?" I asked, wanting to get everyone's opinion.

"Why don't you and Draco pick a few out while Em and I get more snacks and drinks?" Eric suggested, prompting Emily into handing me the stack of cards.

"Sounds like a plan," Draco declared. "Where's the game closet again?"

I laughed and smiled up at him. "You can just follow me."

"Then you better get up," he told me in pseudo-annoyance. "I'm not crawling around on my hands and knees." He smirked down at me as he held out his hand for me to grab. I gladly took it and let him help me to my feet before guiding him to the cupboard that stored Emily's games. As soon as I had put away the Uno cards, his hands snaked around my waist and twisted me around. As my back met the shelves behind me, his lips met mine in an almost hungry shove. His arms slipped their way to where his hands were moments before as his hands roamed up my back. Bringing my own hands up to his shoulders, I noted that his body suddenly seemed tense, the kind of tense people became when they were worried or upset or scared or nervous. But just as quickly as I noticed it, I felt it start to slide away. Instants after the feeling disappeared completely, he pulled back slightly.

"Sorry," he murmured, leaning his forehead against mine. "Bad day." He opened his eyes to look at me, almost as if to ask if he had gone too far without actually saying the words.

Normally I probably would have been upset that he hadn't warned me, but second thought made me realize how stupid that request would have been. Instead of barking at him, I simply replied, "Oh, is that why you've been acting so crazy?"

I grinned at him as he rolled his eyes before giving his lips a short kiss and asking, "Is it any better now?"

"Oh, much," he replied with a smirk. I turned around in his arms and took a glance at the selection of games.

"So, what do you want to play?" I asked, studying the classics I had enjoyed with Emily over the years.

"Snog the Bookworm?" he supplied, smirk still in place.

"Oh, shut up," I demanded half-teasingly. "And you better hope Eric or Emily don't walk in and see us like this."

"Why?" he inquired. "Did you want to keep our… whatever thing a secret?"

"It's called a relationship, Draco," I corrected, sighing heavily. "If you can't even say the word, why do you want to be in one?"

"I can say it!" he protested. Then his face contracted into a scowl. "It's just a strange thought to think: I'm in a relationship with Hermione Granger, Gryffindor Bookworm Potter Pal Extraordinaire."

I laughed at his wording and agreed. It _was _strange. "And I think it's weird for me to actually be okay with this relationship of mine with Draco Malfoy, Slytherin Punk and Resident Bully Who Teased Me Incessantly."

"Hey, sounds like you're the one with the masochistic issues to me," he teased.

"Evidently," I remarked, faking a heavy sigh. Then I turned my head and cocked it to one side. "But no, I don't want to keep it a secret."

"Then why do you not want Eric and Emily to see us?" he questioned, eyebrows meeting in confusion.

"You told Sammie that our dating was a secret," I responded honestly, if not a bit uneasily.

"Only because I thought you might want to tell Eric and Emily yourself rather than have Emily's little sister announce the news to the world in passing," he explained.

"Oh," I responded, unsure of what to do then after I had just admitted my completely false assumption. "What about Scrabble?"

"What's that?" he asked, nosing crunching together.

"A game where you have to spell different words with the til—"

"Nope, you'd beat us all into the ground," he declared.

"I so would…" I began to protest. Then he gave me a look and I rethought it. "Okay… maybe not Scrabble. What about… Pictionary?"

"What's that?" he asked again.

"It's a game where you're given a word and you have to make your teammates guess it by drawing a picture of it," I explained, watching him consider it.

"Sounds okay," he decided. "What else is there?"

"Well…" I looked again at the collection. "There's always Monopoly."

"What's that?" he repeated. Looking up at him, I smiled.

"We've chosen our next game!" I proclaimed as Draco and I entered the kitchen, figuring Eric and Emily were probably still with the snacks since they hadn't come looking for us by the game closet. "It's…"

Suddenly I stopped, blocked by a frozen Draco in the doorway.

"Well, this is an unexpected surprise," Draco drawled. I nudged him to the side to see what he had stumbled upon and found a guilty-looking Eric and Emily who were still laced together, making it obvious with the connecting of a few other pieces of the puzzle I hadn't known I'd been gathering over the past few weeks what was going on.

"Er, we…" Emily stumbled for words, trying to come up with a reason that would explain all this (I could tell; it was all in her eyes).

"Are you two dating?" I heard myself ask in a light tone. My eyes widened momentarily when I realized that I had actually voiced my speculations.

"Obviously," Draco answered for them, bringing a deep flush to Emily's skin and guiding Eric's hand to the back of his neck. "Either that or Eric fell onto Emily's lips."

"We didn't tell you because we didn't want the two of you to feel awkward," Emily explained.

"It sounded like a good idea when she suggested it," Eric admitted. "Even though it's been driving me insane."

"I can't believe you didn't tell me you had a boyfriend," I chided Em, the frown on my face deepening the guilty expression on hers.

"Sorry," she mumbled shyly. "I was trying to help you out and all."

"I know," I replied, curving my mouth into a smile.

"So, now that that's out in the open," Eric remarked, swinging his arm around his apparent girlfriend's shoulder, "What game did you choose?"

"Monopoly," Draco announced, following the other couple into the other room after popping another cookie in his mouth. Rolling my eyes at his antics and still thinking about how I could have missed the fact that my friend was dating someone right in front of my very eyes, I took the bowl of crisps and a stack of paper napkins into the other room with me.

"I love this game," Eric declared happily. "This time I'll beat you all fair and square."

"Hey, I didn't cheat!" Draco protested, setting the box onto the floor. Immediately I reached for the colored paper; I was always the banker whenever I played a game that required it.

"Pick your person," Emily demanded, holding out the collection of pieces in her palm.

"I want the—"

"Already got the boat on the board," Emily assured me, shooting a smile my way.

"Thanks," I replied with a grin.

"I want the car," Eric decided, taking the piece from Em and placing it on Go after juvenilely driving it around the board a couple of times.

"What's this?" Draco asked, holding up the flat iron.

"A flat iron," Emily informed him. She probably thought that his family just used a setting on a dryer, but I knew that he didn't know what an iron was because his family used magic. "A lot of people don't use them anymore, but they get the wrinkles out of clothes."

"Oh," he remarked, uninterested. "What's this one?"

"A kiss," she replied nonchalantly, grin present on her face. Eric and Draco both gave her faces for that one and I burst out laughing.

"Obviously you've never seen Peter Pan," I commented. Eric's face found understanding, but Draco seemed even more confused than ever. Taking pity on him I explained, "It's a thimble. People wear them on their fingers while sewing so they don't get poked by the needle."

"Okay," Draco replied, more content with that answer which he still most likely did not understand. "'Cause that is no kiss."

"It is, too," Emily argued back in a teasing voice. "To Peter Pan."

"Then this Peter has issues with real kissing," Draco decided. "'Cause that goes more like…"

Suddenly I found my mouth covered with his, and as much as I wanted to pull back in surprise, I also found myself kissing him back. When he pulled away after a few seconds, I noticed that Emily had her mouth open in shock while Eric seemed on the verge of laughter.

"What?" Draco asked innocently. "I kind of fell on her lips."

"Draco!" I scolded with a hit to his shoulder.

"Ho! That's a fat load of bull!" Eric exclaimed, laughing up a storm.

"Looks like you have no room to protest, Mia," Em said when she collected herself again. "You've been off snogging Draco!"

"Have not!" I protested. "Only since yesterday."

"Okay, okay," she gave in, wide smile in place. And just like that, everyone was comfortable again.

"So, I think I want to be the kiss," Draco decided, leaning back against the couch. "Or whatever it's called…"

"Thimble," I provided automatically.

"The thimble," he repeated, taking the piece from Em and placing next to the other three on the Go space.

"Let's roll to see who goes first," I announced. After a brief, playful fight between the boys about who rolled first to see who went first, we started the game.

"Can't we go back to playing Uno?" Draco whined as he dropped himself in jail for the fourth time after rolling three sets of doubles once again.

"No way!" Eric protested, eyeing his stack of money and collection of properties. "Sometimes life sucks in the fat lane, don't it?"

"Ah, bugger," Emily murmured, landing on one of Eric's properties that he had developed with hotels.

"Yes!" he exclaimed. "Hand over the dough, Em."

"Can I pay you with a kiss?" she offered saccharinely, with a fake shine of hope in her eyes.

"Cheating…" I reminded, not too seriously since I knew she was kidding. She mumbled and grumbled in response, but handed over the money to Eric anyway.

"We should just combine into groups," Draco decided, leaning over to Emily conspiratorially. "I'll join Hermione and you can join Eric."

"Good plan," she overly-loudly whispered back. "Hey, Mia, is marriage allowed in Monopoly?"

"No, the rules don't say—" I began, picking up the instruction packet. I didn't get to finish since a round of laughter broke me off.

"Kidding," Em explained unnecessarily.

"Not like I wanted to share my riches with you anyway," Eric teased, bringing his precious money close to his chest.

Needless to say, Eric ended up winning the game. Of course, I had ended up winning our round of Clue and Emily had ended up winning the game of Yahtzee (even though I think I saw Eric switch his rolls a couple of times to get less points), so everything evened out in the end.

And when that end did come, Draco ended up walking me home – even though Eric had offered to drive both of us – after being sent off with a plate of cookies each to give to our parents. Our conversation on the walk to my house was light and comfortable. After spending an extra minute or so in front of my house, I bid him goodbye and went inside.

"Mum? Dad? I'm home," I called as I walked through the doorway and shut the door.

"We're in here," I heard Mum call back from the kitchen. Entering the room, I saw that they had brought out the cribbage board and were in the middle of a game. "We decided to have a game night, too."

"I see," I responded as I laid down the plate of cookies. "Maggie says hi."

"Oh, these look good," Dad commented, peeling back the plastic wrap to sample one.

"How was your night?" Mum asked as she dealt the cards for her and Dad.

"Good. We had a lot of fun," I reported. "Oh, and we found out that Emily is dating Eric."

"Oh, really?" Mum asked. "Isn't he the other boy you've been hanging out with?"

"Yeah, but it works out in a weird sort of way," I replied.

"Oh, and how's that?" she questioned.

"Well…" I braced myself to break the news t my parents. "I think I really kind of like…" I paused. It was still strange to say. How bizarre was that? I would hold hands with him and kiss him, but saying I liked _him _or calling him my _boyfriend_ sounded… foreign. Besides, he wasn't really my boyfriend. We weren't that serious. It was more of a 'Hey, I'm attracted to this side of you, wait, I am?' kind of thing.

"…Draco?" my mum finished for me casually, almost as if she was expecting it.

"Yeah," I confirmed.

"What's this?" Dad inquired, getting serious. "Who's this Raco boy?"

"Draco, sweetie," Mum corrected. "And he's one of the boys that Hermione's been hanging around recently."

"And you've… what again?" he demanded of me.

"Well, we're kind of dating," I supplied.

"Kind of dating?" he asked, a bit of amusement entering his voice now. "I expect to meet this kind of date before he becomes a real date."

"Okay, Daddy," I promised.

"Oh, don't worry about her, Richard," Mum chided. "She's a big girl now."

"I think I'm going to head to bed now," I told them, recognizing the 'our daughter's growing up and we have to talk about this' line.

"Good night, hun," Mum said.

"Sweet dreams, pumpkin," Dad wished me.

"Good night, Mum. Good night, Dad," I returned before retreating to my room. Once inside, I fell prisoner to the thoughts in my head once more.


	18. Of Parent Meetings and Flying Napkins

**A/N: I know some of you would probably think that holidays meant **_**more **_**time for me to spend writing… but in my family, it means no time for anything not holiday or family related. I seriously went on the internet for maybe an hour total over the two weeks of holidays. But I had a wonderful time! And I hope everyone had just as fabulous of holidays! Anyway, here's the next chapter. Hope you like it!**

"Draco?"

For the past three days, I had spent as much time as possible being as far away from my mother as possible. I hadn't spoken to her since our argument. I didn't want to. I still didn't want to. So I ignored her.

"Draco, we need to talk."

The thought of placing a Silencing Charm around my door popped into my brain, but I knew that would only piss my mother off. Deciding to do nothing, I turned over in my bed, which I hadn't gotten out of all day, despite the sun being high in the sky. Staring at my cloth-covered window, I continued to not react as mother opened my door.

"Draco," she became again. "I'm sorry."

I froze. I had expected more yelling, more scolding, more demands and questions – not calm apologies.

"I know I shouldn't invade your private space, but we need to talk."

So that was it. She wasn't apologizing after all. Not for that.

"No, we don't," I replied coldly.

"Draco," she scolded firmly. I could practically see the hardening of her face.

"Mum, you don't have any right to tell me who I can talk to," I shot loudly, spinning over and sitting up on my bed in one swift motion. "So what if I've been making nice with Muggles?"

"Have you lost all sense of who you are?" the pale, blonde women asked in wonder.

"And who is that supposed to be?" I demanded. "A _Malfoy?_"

"Yes, Draco," she affirmed, shaking her head as if she didn't understand. "You are a Malfoy, but moreover, you are a _wizard._ You have been blessed with a calling higher than most of the people that walk on this earth. Why would you choose to sink to a lower level?"

"I'm not sinking, Mum, I'm out with friends!" I defended, getting sick of her nonsense.

"They don't deserve to be your friend, Draco, you are _better _than them!" she yelled desperately.

"I'm not better than anyone, Mum!" I corrected, not even realizing it myself until the words came out. I always thought I was better than others, because… well, I figured I had to be. I was pureblood, and pure was always better than dirtied. I was a Malfoy, a member of one of the wealthiest and most prestigious wizarding families in England. I was the oldest son, the only son, the one who would someday be given the responsibility of the role of Head of the Malfoy house. I was better. I just was.

But, my mind then inserted the thought that my high place didn't change the people below me in station. Emily was one of the most welcoming and pleasant people I had ever met. Eric and his brother were incredibly devious at times. And Hermione Granger had to be one of the smartest people I knew. Three Muggles and a Mudblood, and they all had specific strengths that surpassed my own.

"They're _Muggles_, Draco. How many times do I have to tell you this?" she demanded.

"They're also people," I added coldly. "People that are amazing and wonderful in their own way."

I watched with a stone face as my mother collapsed into my desk chair with exhaustion, rubbing her temples gently. "Yes, Draco, I know they are people… But why do you need to associate with them?"

After an elongated moment of silence, I answered, "Because they make me happy."

"Remind me how this is different from the four of us hanging out?" I asked Eric as waited in the front hallway of Emily's house as the girls did whatever it was they did in the loo before going out.

"To the girls, it means something," he answered, his way of saying 'There is absolutely no difference at all.'

"Hey, it should mean something to you guys as well," Emily retorted as she and Hermione approached. "After all, now we can always sneak in hand holding and snogging."

"In public?" Hermione question with a slight hint of disgust in her voice as Eric waggled his eyebrows at his girlfriend. When Eric heard her protest, he barked a laugh.

"Looks like no snogging for you, mate," Eric taunted before kissing Em square on the lips. Childishly sticking out my tongue, I leaned over and confided loudly to Hermione, "PDA is definitely out of the question."

"Thank God," she equally loudly replied with a grin on her face.

"That's the benefit of dating, Draco," Eric explained jokingly, wrapping his arm around Emily's shoulders.

"And here I thought it was the free food," Emily teased as they walked together. Since we were still within the guarded sanctuary of Emily's house, I decided it was safe to curve my own arm around Hermione's waist. Holding it at that position felt both physically natural and mind bogglingly awkward. My brain still seemed fuzzy from my conversation earlier that day with my mother.

Or maybe the lead birds flying around throughout my digestive system were the ones guilty of causing me these strange thoughts and feelings. Let's just say that I turned into a melted mass of messy goo when Hermione inquired if I would meet her parents two days ago and hadn't recovered since.

Walking out the door and heading down the street to Hermione's house did nothing to settle my nerves, despite the bundle of laughs and jokes that echoed through the air on the way. It certainly didn't help that the majority of said funnies came at my expense. Eric just wouldn't let me forget what was about to be happening.

"My dad is really not that scary," Hermione insisted, shushing Emily's story about the time the Gryffindor's father had grounded his 8-year-old daughter for a month for knocking his books out of alphabetical order. "He was just in a bad mood that day."

"Still might want to avoid any contact at all with the millions of books lying around the house, Draco," Eric advised with a grin. "Impossible though it may seem."

"I still don't get why we have to do this in such a ridiculous manner," I whined, not comprehending why I had to meet Hermione's parents tonight even though the four of us had already met up at Emily's house. If Hermione really wanted me meet her folks, she could have gotten ready for our date at her own home and let me pick her up there, like every other normal teenager in a relationship. Then again, maybe having Eric and Emily there would pull down the awkward level a notch or two. Mr. Granger could skip the entire 'Are You Good Enough For My Daughter?' interview all together. Of course, the other option was that the horrid conversation took place anyway with the audience of Eric, Emily, Hermione, and her mum. How embarrassing.

Refusing to show how insecure I felt, I walked with what I knew would come off as an arrogant air as we reached closer to the door.

"Don't worry," Hermione whispered in my ear before slipping her key into the lock.

As she twisted the handle, I slyly replied, "About what?"

Rolling her eyes, she shoved me gently and returned the grin I had shot towards her with a smile as we entered her house.

Eric and Emily had not lied, that much was certain. Lining the walls of the front hall were bookcases and bookcases of books of all sorts and sizes. Before I could spend any time looking at their titles, Hermione dragged me by the arm into the living room, where her parents were both seated. My lips turned into a quick curve and my eyes rolled once when I saw that they both were enraptured by the books they held in their laps. Must run in the family.

"Hi, Mum. Hi, Dad," Hermione greeted as we entered the room, dropping my arm. I stood confidently next to her, even though I really felt rather awkward. "This is Draco."

"Hello, Draco," her mother offered, stretching out her hand. I shook it softly while wondering why she had such a broad smile on her face.

"Draco, eh?" Hermione's dad asked. When he held out his own hand, I made sure to shake it very firmly.

"That's me, sir," I replied coolly.

"So you want to date my daughter?" he inquired, remaining perfectly serious as he ignored his wife's gentle hit to his arm, Eric's not-so-sly snort, Emily's giggles, and Hermione's embarrassed protest.

"That's the idea, sir," I affirmed.

"No need for us to keep them here, Richard," Hermione's mother pointed out (from her tone, I would venture to guess that it certainly wasn't the first time that night she had done so).

"Yeah, Dad," Hermione agreed. "We should get going."

After a moment of thoughtful silence, he relented. However, as we were walking out of the house, I heard him tell her, "I don't know, Nat… Something about the kid just puts me on edge."

Hermione and I stopped and exchanged a glance at his words. As much as it probably should have bothered me, I just found it hilarious. And evidently, so did she.

"I like him," I confided with a smirk. "Good judge of character."

Walking through the doorway as Hermione laughed, I barely heard Hermione's mother respond that her husband was being plain silly before shutting the door behind us. When she pulled out her key, I raised my hand to catch hers and looked up at her while withdrawing the key from her grip. After I locked the door, I turned around and let her hand twist into mine as we followed Eric and Emily down the street.

"Good night," the four of us bid each other as Eric and Emily crossed the street.

"Don't do anything we wouldn't!" Emily advised teasingly, bring a blush to Hermione's face.

"Not that that's much!" I yelled back with a smirk, bring a smack to my shoulder curtsey of Hermione's hand.

"Ain't that the truth!" Eric shouted, earning him a squeal of his name from his girlfriend. With everyone still shaking with laughter, we parted ways.

"That was a fun night," Hermione whispered softly.

"That it was," I agreed, smiling down at her. "Do we really have to spoil it by letting your father grill me?"

"But that's supposed to be the highlight of my evening!" she protested with a grin. When I pouted and stopped frozen at the bottom of the pathway to her house, she pulled on my arm anxiously.

"Come on, Draco," she urged. "They don't bite."

"_You,_" I finished in a low voice. "Your dad's not exactly fond of me."

"Well, make him change his mind," she prompted, yanking a bit harder on my elbow.

"Good judge of character, remember?" I pointed out darkly. She sighed heavily and let her hand slip down to my fingers.

"People can change, Draco," she told me quietly, gazing down to where her fingers were caressing my palm. "You've shown me that."

"I haven't really changed," I informed her. "I'm probably just playing out the teenage rebel stage."

Although she giggled, I knew she didn't believe me, even though I was being completely honest. I had thought about this often, especially since my mother had started pestering me about being friends with Muggles. I knew she would completely loose her marbles if I told her I was dating a Mudblood.

"Well, then let's enjoy the stage while we can," she suggested. "Besides, I must be rebelling too if I'm dating the rebellious Draco Malfoy."

"Oh, yeah, you're the biggest rebel of all, Hermione," I joked with a grin that matched her own. I leaned down close to her ear to whisper conspiratorially, "I bet you haven't even broken open The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 6 yet."

"Well," she admitted guiltily. "I'm not quite that rebellious."

We laughed heartily as I slipped the key I still had in my pocket from earlier into the lock and opened the door. Guiding me by our joint hands, we walked into the kitchen to find both of Hermione's parents sitting at the table, drinking from mugs and – no surprise here – reading.

"Oh, hello, dear. Hello, Draco," Hermione's mother greeted, placing her finger in between the pages of her book to mark her place as she set it down on the table. "How was your night?"

"Great," Hermione replied with a grin. Although Hermione's dad was giving me suspicious and untrusting glances, his wife's eyes were kind and welcoming, making me feel a bit more comfortable.

"So what'd you four do?" he asked curiously, obviously trying to seem casual while he did his digging.

"We went bowling and then had dessert at the ice cream parlor," Hermione answered eagerly, desiring approval.

"Who won?" her mother asked curiously, her eyes sparkling with delight.

"Eric did," Hermione reported. "But I was a close second!"

"If close is thirty points away," I teased her, speaking dryly before shooting her a smile.

"Hey, with you and Emily sixty plus points behind me, I was definitely second!" she defended, half-serious and half-playing along with me. "And I didn't even cheat and use bumbers!" Only when I heard Hermione's mother's laughter did I look up and see the grin that temporarily held captive Mr. Granger's face. A bit embarrassed, I was still glad to see him lighten up a bit around me.

"Sounds like you enjoyed yourselves," he commented, putting his book down on the table as well.

"The best part had to be when Hermione flipped a bit of napkin in this lady's hair from clear across the walkway at the ice cream parlor," I confided, getting Hermione back for spilling to her parents how horrible I was at bowling.

"What?" her mum asked with a laugh, eyes widening.

"See, Eric was trying to toss these bunched up bits of his napkin into his empty ice cream dish as he waited for the rest of us to finish using his spoon. He would face his spoon towards himself, put the ball of paper on the end, and slam down on the curved bit of the spoon to catapult the napkin though the air," I explained excitingly, using hand gestures and everything. I blame the funniness of the memory. "So we all wanted to take a go at it as well."

"Sounds like a hoot," Mr. Granger remarked with a smile.

"It was," I assured him, grinning at the memory, the fact he was warming up to me, and how Hermione was getting redder by the minute. "So when Hermione finally gave in and joined us, she made this teeny tiny ball and barely nudged the spoon, so it went practically nowhere. But after a few tries, she constructed this huge wad with Emily and seriously slammed the spoon down. To all of our surprise, the thing went soaring through the air and landed in the hair of this old lady that was sitting at the table across from ours."

With Hermione as red as a tomato and both her parents cracking up, I continued. "So the lady's husband noticed right away, and he started bursting out with laughter when he saw the horrified expression on Hermione's face. The funniest part was when he picked the bit out of his wife's hair and shot it back over to us, landing the paper right in Hermione's glass!"

Both of Hermione's parents were howling with laugher, their places into their books no doubt lost now that their fingers were busy slapping their knees.

"Well, I must say," Hermione's dad began after gaining a bit of control back. "I don't think I've heard such a tale in a long time. You must really bring out the playful side of our Hermione."

"I do hope so, sir," I responded. "It is one of my favorites."

A few minutes later, when Hermione's mother mentioned the late hour, I bid goodbye to the couple I had just met a few hours ago in a much happier mood than before. Waving to them both and feeling confident at the sight of the approving nod and genuine smile on Mr. Granger's face, I let my arm catch Hermione's waist as she walked me to the front door.

"Told you they would like you," she reminded me as we reached the closed door. "But you really didn't need to tell them about the napkin incident!"

"It was hilarious!" I retorted as I used my grip on her waist to swing her around to face me. "And they did enjoy it."

She rolled her eyes but agreed as she gave me a smile. Being drawn in by that expression – one of my favorites of hers – I leaned down to kiss her only to find her pull away.

"Not in my parents' house!" she whispered urgently, darting her eyes around to check if they had magically appeared in the hallway with us.

"Fine," I relented, opening the door. Instead of leaving her within her house though, I swept her outside with me and leaned down again, capturing her lips with mine.

"Better?" I inquired between gentle kisses.

"Mhmm," she agreed. After a few more moments, however, she pulled back again and lifted her hand to my cheek.

"Good night," she whispered, rubbing my skin over a couple times before letting go.

"Good night," I returned. Walking down the street back towards my own house, I couldn't forget how great of a night it truly was.


	19. Of Wrong Words and WakeUp Calls

**A/N: Stupid freaking automatic updates that turn off my computer and don't save my files… so there's the legitimate part of the reason I didn't update earlier – I lost my almost completed chapter on Wednesday because my computer wanted to install updates.**

**Then I spent a lot of the rest of my week organizing my room, dealing with some school hassles, enjoying some much-needed family time, indulging in some friend time, and playing shrink.**

**But I guess it all worked out, because I decided to completely change a few important aspects of this chapter about 4 times while in the middle of rewriting it and actually like the changes better than the original. Hopefully you'll like them too! Please share any feelings!**

Ever since the all-revealing game night, Emily's teasing had been in full force. Fortunately for me, I had some ammunition of my own this time.

"I can't believe you didn't tell me about Eric," I exclaimed once again. It was the night after our first official double date, and Em had decided that it was time for another girl night. Since I suspected that the motivation behind this girl night was to discuss the guys we were currently dating, I chose to attack first.

"Well, we didn't want to make you two uncomfortable," she answered as she pulled out some junk food. Once again, we were spending the night at her house. It was very rare that she came over to my place for these nights, something I think was due to the whole fact that my parents didn't keep much junk food or sweets in the house. "Think about it. Would you guys have told us you were dating if you hadn't found out that night?"

After doing what she said and thinking about it for a moment, I knew she was right. Reading the expression on my face, she smiled and nodded her head.

"Understand?"

"Yes," I admitted. "But I still get to tease you about it."

"Okay," she compromised, giggling.

"So, when did you meet him?" I inquired, hopping onto the couch with my bowl of popcorn.

"At school," she explained as she joined me, opening her bag of cheese and onion crisps. "He moved here around the beginning of the year."

"Please don't tell me it was one of those cliché _love at first sight_ types of things," I begged, fluctuating my voice to mock the idea I found so impractical.

"No, it wasn't," Em confirmed, laughing at me. "I really didn't have any opinion at all of him at first. I knew who he was and all, but there was no interest or anything."

"So what happened?"

"Well, it was about a month later that I began to see more and more of him. He and… Remember Jenny?" I nodded. "Jenny was dating Jason at the time, and Eric and Jason had become pretty good friends. Jenny and I were partners in this school assignment, so I would walk over to her house a couple days a week. I don't recall what day exactly, but one day Eric offered to drive me home. I accepted and it became a regular thing."

I was grinning and rolling my eyes at Em's tale – not because it was stupid, but just because it was very amusing to hear her tell it. "What happened when you finished the project?" I inquired.

"Eric had already started driving me home from school by then," Emily explained with a blush, becoming embarrassed. "He asked me out on… on Valentine's Day."

Not being able to control myself, I giggled at the cliché romance of it all, yet still couldn't help but find it rather cute.

"What about you?" Emily asked, suddenly turning the tables. "You've only known Draco for a fortnight! I never would have thought you would be someone to start dating someone you hardly knew."

Although my brain had immediately reacted to defend me by pointing out that Draco and I had gone to school for five years together, I realized a split second later that she was right. I hardly knew him.

"He, er…" I stumbled on my words, not knowing how to explain things to her without spilling about Hogwarts or lying straight to her face. "He confided in me."

"That's weird," Emily remarked, eyebrows knitting together. "Why would he do that?"

"Well, we kind of bumped into each other once without you or Eric around, and he seemed really upset. I let him just talk and it felt strangely comfortable," I admitted, remembering the night from just a short while ago very clearly. Although I wasn't being completely honest with Emily about everything, I spoke the truth. "He kissed me to, er, thank me for being there."

"Lemme guess," Emily interrupted, grin spreading from ear to ear. "Things just went on from there?"

"Pretty much," I answered, smiling back. "Can we watch the movie now?"

When Emily laughed at my discomfort, I threw a kernel of popcorn at her head, sparking a short-lived junk food fight before we stretched out and began watching _The Great Race,_ talking the entire time, of course.

Two days later, my mother and I were in the kitchen preparing dinner while Dad was vacuuming my parent's bedroom, something Mum had been planning on getting around to but told Dad he had to do after he spilt a container of bird seed on the carpet.

Both of my parents let me know the morning after they met Draco that he seemed like a nice enough guy, but Mum especially seemed to like him. She thought he was good for me or something.

"I'm assuming that you had a chat with Draco about the whole 'knowing each other at school' bit?" Mum asked as she stood at the sink, peeling potatoes.

"Yeah, we a had a couple of them actually," I replied, thinking back to the rather weird conversations that had brought so much light into my opinion of Draco Malfoy.

"So was I right?" she inquired eagerly, shooting me a smile. Laughing, I admitted she was, that he had gone through a lot, but I didn't truly know him in the first place.

"What do Ron and Harry think?" she questioned. I froze in place.

It wasn't that I had forgotten about Ron and Harry, or about the fact that sixth year was coming up in a little over a month. It wasn't that I had forgotten that I was a Gryffindor and Draco was a Slytherin, or about the fact that his pureblood family historically hated Muggles and Muggleborns to extent that his father was a Death Eater under Lord Voldemort. It wasn't that I had forgotten how deeply I used to hate him so easily, or about the fact that he had hurt and insulted and targeted and bullied me and my friends for years. No, I hadn't forgotten all of that.

I just somehow hadn't really connected the pieces. How much could a person change in a month and a half's time? Was I really expecting Harry, Ron, Ginny, and everyone else at Hogwarts to understand when I did truly understand myself?

I hadn't realized it until that moment, but I still didn't quite understand _why _Draco Malfoy was acting he was, or _why _I thought going out with him would be acceptable. Logically, it shouldn't have even been acceptable in my eyes, much less those of my friends.

He had been so different, this summer had been so different… it had been so easy to compartmentalize my feelings and separate so much from school life; after all, I had to do that to some extent every summer when I spent time with Emily, when I pretended that I wasn't a witch.

"Honey?"

"I, er… I don't know what they think," I responded truthfully, jumping back into my job of slicing the onions. "I haven't told them yet."

Fear started eating up inside me at the thought of them finding out, but I could not figure out what it was that had sparked that fear. The possibility of damaging my reputation? Of rejection? Of hatred? Draco's reaction to _his _friends finding out? Did they already know? Was he planning on telling them?

Merlin, I really did not think this through at all.

"Oh, Hermione…" my mother began sympathetically. Not knowing why she was acting like she had read my thoughts (I hadn't voiced them, had I?), I turned to her. "You can't not tell your friends that you've fallen for him."

"What? Mum, I don't _love _him!" I retorted hotly.

"Oh, okay then," she relented, holding up her hands to signal that she hadn't meant any offense. "But still, you're _dating _the boy. You can't not tell them."

"You have a thing for being right, don't you?" I responded dejectedly, shoulders dropping.

"Where do you think you get it from?" she teased with a grin.

The smile I returned to her was fake.

When I walked into my room after dinner, I found Pig rooming through the air, a letter from Ginny laying on the floor by my bed. Apprehensive after the conversation I had held earlier with my mother, I picked up the letter and sat down slowly in my desk chair, biting my lip as I put off opening it.

With a relaxing breath, I slid my finger under the seal and lifted the flap.

_Dear Hermione,_

_How is your summer? Life here is actually rather boring. The Burrow is filled with people all of the time, but I still feel so lonely most of the time. There are members of the Order coming and going, but no one stays for long, Tonks (the only fun visitor) seems down lately, and Mum and Dad are both all stressed out. Unfortunately, the one extra person we have as a permanent is unwanted in every sense of the word._

_See, Bill came by at the beginning of the month and announced the news. Remember Fleur Delacour from the Triwizard Tournament? Well, in short, they're getting married. Next summer. They wanted to do it next month, but Phlegm's mum wouldn't hear of it. Preparation or some crap like that. But meanwhile, since Bill is busy working for the Order as well, we get to play hostess for his French girlie. And though Ron may not might mind (quite disgusting, that is), Mum and I agree that she's positively horrendous._

_Anyway, I can't wait until you can come. It will be so nice to have someone to talk to again, with Ron and Phlegm being out of the question, Fred and George living at the shop (which is doing quite handsomely, they say. Mum says we can go visit them when we go to Diagon Alley), and the rest of the family busy with the Order and fighting the Death Eaters. I wish that they would just let me help. I feel so useless just watching everything happen._

_On the flip side, Dean and I have been writing each other and have even met up a couple of times to go on dates. He's very nice, and the snogging isn't bad, if you get what I mean. It's always nice to know that we could never have a fight over something as ridiculous as Houses._

_Returning to the subject to your arrival, do you know when you'll be coming over? How has your summer been so far? I won't be so stupid as to even think about thinking that you haven't been keeping up with the news, but isn't it horrid? And from the whispers I hear around the house, I'm pretty sure that it's actually worse than _The Prophet _says. How is the Muggle world handling the news? Surely they can't keep everything away from them, what with that bridge and the murders and all. How much do your parents know? Of course, it may not be best to tell them everything; Mum freaked out earlier this week and decided that Ron and I weren't going to go back to Hogwarts with this war going on. Dad's mostly convinced her that the idea is nutters and that Dumbledore will keep everyone as safe as houses, but I still worry a bit. Your parents would probably understand even less if they knew._

_Hopefully your summer's been going along better than mine. Can't wait to see you again. Mum wants to plan a nice, big party for Harry's 16__th__ birthday to try to lighten everyone up. You should come at least a bit earlier than that so you can help with the preparations. I don't want to do it all with just Phlegm._

_Ginny_

By the time I finished reading Ginny's letter, my head was spinning with all the thoughts it contained.

The surprise of Bill's engagement to Fleur was almost amusing, as was Ginny's reaction to it. Not so funny was the thought that I would probably agree with her once I also was stuck in the same house as the French girl.

I felt sorry for Ginny, with all the adult members of the Order traveling through again and again but never chatting, all the stress of the war collected into their little home. Not knowing what was going on at Grimmald Place last summer was bad enough, but at least I had been with Ron and Ginny and then Harry.

I wondered what was going on with Tonks that she wasn't being her normal, happy self. She usually had been such a delightful bundle of brightness in the whole mess.

I couldn't help but smile at Ginny's discussion of her current relationship with Dean, but then she had to bring my mind down from that light and airy thought pattern back to the world with that remark about Houses. I wonder if she would think fighting about Houses would be ridiculous in the case of Slytherin and Gryffindor.

But more than anything else, I worried about when I was going to leave for the Burrow. A genuine smile returned to my face when Ginny mentioned the party Mrs. Weasley wanted to hold. I knew Harry would appreciate it, especially after what happened at the Ministry just a matter of weeks ago. I had to at least arrive a week before then. Preferably two.

Which left me with a week, maybe a little longer, to remain here. One week to tell Emily I was leaving again. One week to stay with my parents before returning to school. One week to figure out this mess with Draco.

I really had to talk to Draco.

Should we just forget it ever happened? Return to the old, _normal_ way of interaction? I could never do that.

Should we just pretend to act normal at school but secretly have this relationship? Lie and sneak around my friends' backs to date someone they considered the enemy? I could never do that.

But, did I want it enough to tell everyone else?

Confused and a bit scared of what the future held in store, I laid down on my bed and stared out of my window until sleep came over and stole away my thoughts.


	20. Of Testosterone Time and Friend Talk

**A/N: Originally I planned on making this the first part of a trilogy, in which case there would only be a few more chapters of this story. However, I have since decided to write the whole thing as one, big, long story! I think it'll flow better that way.**

**Anyway, I apologize for not posting last weekend. I got a tad tied up with the start of the new semester. I'm really looking forward to my classes, but they'll sure keep me busy. I hope you enjoy!**

Shades of purple. A beautiful girl asleep in lavender waves. I had had that dream again. Other than those mysterious dreams of the strange girl, ones of Hermione were all I saw in my sleep. Her face drove the nightmares I once had away, tucked into a corner of darkness. Every so often, mysterious purple clouds would surround me. My violet dream always ended the same way, with the unknown girl letting out a gasp of surprise.

Shaking off the remnants of the weird dream, I pulled myself out of bed to get ready for the day. Eric invited me to a game of four-on-four football with his brother and some of their friends. Looking forward to the increase of testosterone, I happily agreed. After so much time with mainly my mother, Emily, Hermione, and Eric, a lack of estrogen would do me good. Besides, Eric and I had been so preoccupied by the girls over the past week, we needed to take a break.

"Hey, mate," Eric greeted heartily, introducing me to the couple of unfamiliar faces. After some short conversing, a game of football began.

"So, Draco," the boy named Jon called out as they ran up the field, trying to steal the ball from each other. "I heard you've got yourself a girl."

"And who told you this?" I replied.

"We wheedled it out of Eric," Eric's brother – Andrew – declared slyly from the goal area. Laughing collectively, I confirmed the fact.

"She a looker?" Jordan questioned suggestively, wiggling his eyebrows.

"When she wants to be," I replied with a grin, telling myself not to overreact to anything they might say about Hermione. A couple of the guys grinned back in response to my answer.

"What she look like?" the boy whose name I couldn't recall inquired.

"Slightly shorter than average, slender, brown hair that goes halfway down her back…"

"… and is bushier than you can imagine, complete bookworm, and all around goodie-two-shoes," Eric finished, shooting me a smirk. I rolled my eyes but couldn't disagree as the guys laughed.

"Aren't you going to defend your girl?" Andrew questioned teasingly.

"It's true," I responded simply, holding up my hands to signal that there was nothing I could do about facts. "Her hair is atrocious."

"She probably wouldn't be so friendly if she knew what you thought of her," Jon remarked loudly, breaking the line and kicking the ball down to Hanson.

"Oh, she knows," I blurted out, amused, before I could think of what I was saying. A slight touch of embarrassment hit me when I realized that Eric could take this back to the girls, but it also felt kind of good to tell the truth. "Besides, I've grown quite accustomed and a bit fond of the messiness."

"Are we talking chaotic bed head but in a kind of sexy way messy, or got struck by lightning serious frizz messy?" Jon checked.

"Serious frizz."

"Bed head."

Eric and I glanced at each other after answering simultaneously.

"You think it's sexy?" I inquired incredulously as the guys burst into rounds of laughter.

"I can't believe Eric here likes your girlfriend's hair better than you do!" Andrew commented in good spirits.

"You just haven't seen it when it's _real bad_," I confided, widening my eyes for emphasis, thinking about all those times over the years when the Gryffindor's hair would become noticeably problematic.

"Oh, and you have?" Eric challenged. Affirming this, I knew I had to be careful about letting it slip that I had previously known the girl. That could lead to trouble of the revelation of the Wizarding community to Muggles kind. I certainly didn't want to get busted for this.

"You're telling me Emily never has bad hair days?" I challenged in reply, hoping the subject change would stick.

"You got me there," Eric admitted, cracking a grin.

As the conversation evolved, moving to the subject of football (which I didn't follow very well at all), our game got more and more aggressive. After once again reaching a tie of 7 – 7, we decided to take a water break.

"Oh, yeah, Draco," Eric called out as I approached the bench. "Em wanted me to talk to you about this weekend."

"What about it?" I asked as I sat down, leaning backwards to relax and catch my breath.

"After discovering that you are 'culturally deficient,'" he declared, making finger quotes to emphasize the idea Emily found so horrid, "she's decided that the four of us need to have a Star Wars marathon."

"Joy," I remarked sarcastically.

"You've seriously never seen Star Wars?" Jon questioned, surprised.

"What's so great this thing anyway?" I asked in response.

"It's bloody brilliant!" Jon answered, like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

"You'll enjoy it," Andrew informed me.

"If you say so," I relented. "Where's this big marathon happening?"

"Mia's house," Eric replied. "No set time yet."

So, I was headed to the home of Hermione Granger once again, for a longer period of time, it seemed. I wondered if she would at least let me kiss her.

When I came back home in the early evening, somehow evading my mother, I retrieved my broom from my room and quickly went back outside, enjoying the carefree ride over the grounds.

It wasn't until late at night when I returned to my room that I spotted the note on my bedside table. Confused, I immediately went to open it after seeing the familiar handwriting declaring my name on the front.

_Draco,_

_Can we meet tomorrow for lunch? Say, half past noon at the café next to the cinema?_

_Hermione_

Not quite understanding why her words seemed so strange and unusual, I penned a simple response of agreement before I could dwell on the subject too much. After sending the note with Aderyn (and wondering how she had managed to deliver hers without an owl), I changed my clothes and laid down on my bed, letting all thoughts melt away as I drifted off to sleep.

The next morning, I found myself lounging about and doing pretty much nothing until the time came that I had to leave for town to meet Hermione. Getting to the café a few minutes early, I sat down at an empty table and waited for her to arrive. As I did so, my thoughts reflected back to the article in today's _Prophet_ about the Minister of Magic change. I didn't know very much about politics (since I drowned out my father's voice whenever he would discuss the boring subject), and didn't really care either, but this had to be an interesting development. Father had always felt Fudge to be incompetent, but now it seemed that everyone else was agreeing with him. Ironically, their doing so was most likely harmful to 'the cause.' I knew nothing about this Scrimgeour, but I doubted he would take the Revival of the Dark Lord lightly.

These thoughts were immediately tucked away when I saw her slim figure outside the café window. When she had entered and began walking towards me, I noticed a nervous and yet determined look on her face. Something was wrong.

I debated getting up to greet her at the door, but didn't choose early enough to actually do so. When she sat down, she was silent for a few moments before speaking four little words that froze me to the core.

"We need to talk."

Before I could say anything, the waiter approached our table, she dismissively shrugged her shoulders, so I ordered for both of us. As he left, I decided to try and use my vocal chords.

"What about?" I asked, trying to sound as nonchalant as possible, succeeding for the most part as I sipped my drink casually.

"Do your friends know that you're dating me?" she demanded, eyes not quite capable of meeting mine. I silently bet that her hands were wringing themselves into complex knots beneath the table. Her question had thrown me off. Why did she care if I told anyone? As nice and freeing as it was to talk about it with Eric and the guys, I felt rather confident that the situation would be drastically different with my school friends.

"Of course not," I answered honestly, wondering if she ever thought otherwise. I would eat my shoe if she had told Potter and Weasley. Unfortunately, this true answer seemed to be the wholly _wrong _one. Her face contracted and she seemed disappointed for some reason. "Why?"

"Do you…" She struggled to catch her voice and I could have sworn I saw the beginnings of tears at the corners of her eyes. Strange feelings welled up inside me at the sight of her like that. As her tongue came out to moisten her lips, she looked up to the ceiling before bringing her eyes back to the space that wasn't quite my eyes. "Were you planning on telling them?"

"Not really," I responded slowly. When she bit her lip and her expression took a turn towards devastated, I grew worried and reached out to grab her hands. "Why does that matter? It's not like they're here to tell anyway."

"But what about when we go back to Hogwarts?" she inquired, keeping her gaze to the table. She hadn't removed my hand from its place atop hers, but she hadn't responded to my touch either.

Truthfully, I hadn't thought that far ahead. My conflictions over my mother and the fact that I was spending time with Muggles and a Muggleborn and all the emotions swirling through my head had kept me quite occupied.

"That's not till September," I replied, not answering the question on purpose since I didn't know how to. "Why worry about it now?"

"You haven't even thought a bit about how our acquaintances would react to learning the fact that we've been willingly snogging each other?" she demanded loudly. Obviously this was a touchy subject for her and I couldn't just ignore it.

"Okay, so I've thought about it," I admitted, relieved that she calmed down a bit.

"And?" She pushed after a minute of silence.

"And…" I paused to take in a silent, deep breath and think about my wording. "I don't think it would be best for any of them to know. It would only cause make things complicated and more difficult."

"So you just want to pretend this whole ordeal never happened?" she asked, eyes contracted with hurt.

"No!" I insisted. "Just… around them."

The look she shot to me from across the table revealed exactly how fond she was of that idea. I should have left my mouth shut and let her do whatever it was she wanted to. Besides, I didn't care if my friends abandoned me, my family disowned me, and all of Gryffindor house was after my blood. Not really.

Okay, I cared. I cared a lot. I liked my friends. And my mother – though we were going through this rough patch – was a part of my life I could never choose to give up. And I was quite fond of my blood, thank you very much.

"I can't do that, Draco," she proclaimed simply, her eyes now portraying how completely serious she was. If I tilted my head to the side, it almost seemed as if disgust and disappointment hid beneath her eyes as well. "I can't sneak around and lie to my friends for some secret relationship with someone who doesn't want anyone to know about his lack of pure hatred for me."

"It's not like that," I snidely retorted, wishing the girl who just forget about it. It wasn't a big deal! Who cared if everyone knew about us… having a relationship? As long as we knew, that was all that mattered. It was _our _relationship after all, not a subject up for interactive group discussion.

"Really?" she inquired, staring me down with a disbelieving gaze.

"Can't we just, take it slow and let them adjust to the idea of us being… civil before jumping to the more-than-friendship and snogging bits?" I questioned pleadingly.

"People aren't stupid, Draco," she spat. "They'll figure it out."

"We won't have to hide it forever," I responded, realizing one second too late that I had just agreed to eventually share my non-enemy status with Hermione Granger with the world.

"Promise?"

I faltered. There was that word. And there was only one acceptable response to that one-word question and I knew it.

"Promise."

**A/N: Don't worry, they aren't quite done talking about that particular subject… **


	21. Of Love Stories and Movie Marathons

**A/N: And we continue the fun! This has to be one of my favorite chapters so far. It was a bit difficult to write, but I really like the way it turned out. Thanks so much to all of my readers and reviewers!**

Although I had talked with Draco on the subject of our, ahem, relationship and its lack of the adjective 'open,' it still bugged me. Ever so slightly, like a soft buzzing noise from the other side of an otherwise empty room. But seeing as I hadn't talked to Harry or Ron or Ginny about him either, I decided it would be best to drop the subject for the moment. At least until I could figure things out.

Knowing that the best way to tackle such a dilemma was to develop a strategic plan, I got to thinking. Settled in the comfy armchair with my blanket over my lap, a pad of paper in one hand, a pen in the other, I started writing down a list of things I had to think about.

_Should I tell Harry and Ron and Ginny?_

_If so, should I tell them now or wait until later?_

_If later, how much later?_

_When should they know by, just so I can set myself a time limit?_

_Are Draco's friends also subject to this limit?_

_What kind of relationship should I tell them I have with Draco?_

_Friendship?_

_Something more?_

…

_What kind of relationship _do _I have with Draco?_

_How do I feel about him?_

The question wasn't an unfamiliar one, but I had grown accustomed to brushing it away as soon as it appeared inside my brain. That was messy territory. But… all things considered, finding the answer to that was probably the number one priority.

Glancing up at my mother across the room, I bit my lip as I pondered whether or not I was going to seriously consider this.

"Mum?" I asked tentatively.

Yep, I was.

Without looking up from her knitting, she replied, "Yes, honey?"

"What's it like to be in love?" I questioned quietly after a noticeable pause.

"I thought you said you weren't in love with Draco," she remarked, not pausing or even breaking her concentration from her lap.

"I'm not," I insisted, blushing slightly at the very idea. "I just was wondering. So, you know, if it happens…"

Letting my eyes drift away with my words, I stared at the line written on my paper in silence as I awaited my mother's response. Seconds seemed to stretch into eternity before she answered, and all my brain would process was the innocence sentence before me.

_How do I feel about him?_

"Well, sweetie, it's very difficult to explain love," Mum started out gently. "There are different types of love, like the love I have for you is different from the love I have for my sister which is different from the love I have for my parents which is different from the love I have for my friends. And all of them are almost similar to the love I have for your father, but not quite."

"Why?" I inquired, not understanding how this kind of love was so unique, why it was special.

"I'm going to sound like a mindless idiot," my mother remarked with a small smile and amused noise that wasn't quite a laugh or a sigh. "Love… for me, it's that feeling I get whenever your dad holds me in his arms, or when he catches my eye in a room full of people, or when he just smiles at me like he's the happiest person in the world. I feel safe when he's there for me, playful when we're together, and like _I'm_ the ridiculously blessed and lucky one who couldn't possibly be happier."

A smile spread across my face as I watched her talk about her feelings for my dad. Her eyes softened and seemed to gaze at something I couldn't see.

"But when did you know that you loved him?" I asked.

"I can't really pick a day or an instant or anything," Mum admitted after a few moments of contemplation. "But I remember the first time he said it. Remember that date I've told you about when he took me out for a late-night picnic and some star-gazing?" I nodded, having heard the cute story many times before. "Well, it was right before he left from France for two weeks on a trip with his family. I remember that we were lying down, looking up at the stars, and he was telling me about how when he was in France, we would both see the same constellations. He said, 'When I'm gone, Nat, just look up at the stars, and think of me. Think of how much I love you.' I stared at him in wonder and he whispered it again."

Mum stopped speaking, and I saw that there was a far away look in her eyes. Her lips were curled into a sweet smile that I only saw when she was around me or daddy. Or sometimes around my little cousins.

"I knew right then that he was the man I wanted to spend the rest of my life with."

"I hope I can be as happy as you are, Mummy," said softly, smiling at her.

"I know you will, sweetie," she replied.

That night, the four of us went over to my house for dinner to watch the Star Wars Trilogy. Emily had wanted to have a Star Wars night ever since she found out that Draco had never seen the films. She was a _crazy _Star Wars fanatic, partly because her twin older brothers – Benjamin and Michael (though I knew them as Ben and Mike) – had been crazy Star Wars fanatics. Were still crazy Star Wars fanatics. I was sure that if we could have seen their college dorm room, we would find them covered in Star Wars merchandise.

My parents went out on a dinner date, so the four of us ruled the house for a few hours. Eric and Draco discussed what type of toppings they should order for the pizzas while Em and I searched the family room bookcases for the films. My house had bookcases in every room – even some lining the hallways – but unlike all of those bookcases, which were filled with all sorts of books, these were stacked with videos. Since my mother was so organized and rather obsessed with alphabetical order, it only took a moment to find what we wanted. As I slid the first – well, fourth to be more precise – episode into the VCR player, Eric and Draco strolled in, announcing that the pizzas would arrive in fifteen minutes. With that, I grabbed the remote and joined Draco on the couch. Emily beckoned Eric into the kitchen and the two of them returned shortly with some drinks.

As movie started, I laughed at the confused expression on Draco face.

"Why are we starting with number four?" he asked quizzically.

"Because this is the way that George Lucas made them, and George Lucas is God," Em responded in a tone that added the fact that everyone knew this.

Eric rolled his eyes and grinned at his girlfriend's own obsession with the movies while I smiled, knowing that Draco still didn't understand.

"Just believe us," I told him, a sparkle in my eye again. "Besides, episodes one through three haven't even been made yet."

Obviously the wizard had never seen anything like the Muggle Star Wars series, though when the food finally came (a full half hour later, I might add. Stupid, slow pizza delivery guy…), he was completely enraptured by the story. After picking a couple slices of pepperoni pizza to fill my paper plate, I sat down on the couch again, this time closer to Draco's side. I told my mind it was to make room for Eric and Emily, but I saw the happiness in his eyes and recognized the feeling within myself as well.

Time slipped by and the four of us laughed and made jokes and talked casually, adding in a tease every so often of how much Draco was enjoying it.

"You were definitely missing out," Eric commented, leaning over to reach the table to grab another slice of Hawaiian.

"I sure was," Draco agreed.

"Luke's pretty awesome," Em remarked, gazing lovingly at his figure on the screen.

"But Han is so much cooler," I contended. We shot each other grins.

"Nah ah," she responded.

"Uh huh," I argued back.

After going back and forth a couple times, the guys told us to cut it out so they could hear. Em and I then exchanged grins.

"Aren't you short for a storm trooper?" Emily remarked breathily in a fake sophisticated voice. Under her breath, of course.

"Huh?" I responded perfectly on time, speaking only slightly deeper than normal. "Oh, the uniform!"

Emily giggled at what she knew was coming.

"I'm Luke Skywalker, I'm here to rescue you!" I exclaimed softly, facial expression mocking that of the character on the screen.

"Oh, shut up!" Eric pleaded. "We want to hear them, not you two."

A hurt expression filled Emily's face, but the smile in her eyes ruined any effect it might have had as she asked, "What? You don't like my voice?"

My eyes met Draco's as the couple had their moment together, complete with teasing looks, soft words, and a few kisses. When Draco started to mimic vomiting just loud enough to get the other couple's attention, I rolled my eyes and we all shared a laugh. Then I noticed what was happening on screen.

"Oh, cool scene!" I declared, snuggling into Draco's side as everyone's attention moved to the four characters stuck in the garbage shoot. Tired from the day's events, I soon thereafter laid my head on his shoulder. He placed his arm around me without peeling his eyes away from the television screen. I found myself drifting slowly off to sleep until Draco suddenly jerked. Obviously he hadn't been expecting the death of Obi-Wan at the hands of Darth Vader.

The rest of the movie captured my attention enough to keep my eyes open, despite the lulling sound of Draco's breathing and comforting sense of being close to him. However, sometime after Emily inserted Empire Strikes Back and before Han laid Luke inside his dead Tauntaun, I ended up sailing into a peaceful sleep.

While in that place where Tinker Bell loves Peter Pan, I felt something disappear. Soft hands moved from my waist to my back before leaving my body and taking away their warmth. I murmured in my sleep, asking the person I somehow knew had provided that warmth not to leave. I didn't hear any response, but felt a gentle touch to my cheek for a fraction of a moment.

Turning over to try and get myself comfortable again, it was some funny sounding machine noises and disgruntled mutterings that bid me to open my eyes. When I did so, the image of Draco stooping in front of the VCR made my lips curve into a grin. From the way he was pressing random buttons and examining the machine, it was obvious that the wizard was having difficulties putting in the next film. A quick glance around the room told me why he had chosen to do so: Eric and Emily were asleep on the other side of the couch with her head laying on his shoulder and his arms around her. They looked so happy.

"Stupid tell-a-vision," Draco mumbled.

"Having issues?" I teased, laughing aloud at his expression as he turned around. "I would think that a wizard of your knowledge would be clever enough to figure out how to work a simple VCR."

"Emily did it so fast!" he remarked, turning back to the machine. "It should be easy, but there are so many bloody buttons."

"Here." I pressed the eject button and the VHS immediately came out.

"You are brilliant," he proclaimed, eagerly shoving _Return of the Jedi_ into the player. The wrong way.

"Turn it around," I told him when he realized the tape wasn't going all the way in. After doing so, he turned to me and smiled.

"I knew that," he claimed with a fake haughty air.

"Sure you did," I responded with a grin. "I take it you're enjoying the story?"

"It's amazing! Luke is dangling off in the middle of space with one arm, Darth Vader is supposedly his father, and Han Solo is frozen in carbonite! What's carbonite?" he inquired curiously, tone suddenly shifting from excited to thoughtful. The temptation to laugh was strong, but I just smiled and rolled my eyes.

"It doesn't really exist," I explained, amused. "It's just a story."

"Oh," Draco replied, sounding a bit disappointed. Then I just had to laugh.

"And it's starting up," I noticed as the classical music began. Exclaiming his excitement, Draco swiftly retreated to the couch, pulling me along. When he collapsed into the cushions, I dropped half next to, half on top of him. However, he didn't really note it at all, shifting slightly but leaving my legs partly on his lap as he wrapped an arm around my waist and glued his eyes to the telly.

Although I was surprised and a bit uncomfortable at first, I quickly grew relaxed and found that I rather enjoyed being held like that. Every time Draco reacted to something that happened on the screen – whether it was shake with laughter, gasp in surprise, or stiffen with attention during an intense moment – I could feel like I never had before. He asked questions periodically during the film, about characters or events or something he thought he missed. It was extremely amusing to watch his facial expressions and hear his thoughts.

When the movie ended, Draco reached forward and picked up a piece of cold pizza.

"That was brilliant," he exclaimed as he ate. For a few minutes, we discussed the aspects of the films that we enjoyed the most.

"I can't believe you're eating that cold," I commented, crunching my nose as he picked up another slice.

"It's good," he defended.

"It's gross," I retorted.

"You're wrong," he declared.

"I'm never wrong," I responded haughtily.

"You _are _Hermione Granger," he remarked mock thoughtfully.

"Exactly," I teasingly replied. "So it's gross."

"I think the know-it-all is mistaken," he insisted. Just as I was about to continue the faux argument, the tell-tale sound of the front door opening could be heard, followed by the laughing and chatting of my parents.

"Hey, mum, hi, dad," I greeted happily. Draco echoed my words with a strange sounding 'Mr. and Mrs. Granger' in place of 'mum' and 'dad.'

"Hey, kids," Mum greeted as they saw us.

"What're you still doing up?" Dad inquired, a goofy smile on his face that made me smile. Especially after that talk earlier with my mother, I couldn't help but adore the way my parents were so obviously still in love.

"We just finished Star Wars," I explained.

"You enjoy it?" Dad asked.

"Very much," Draco assured him.

"I see Em and Eric didn't make it," Mum noted with a smile.

"Passed out cold before the sixth episode even started," I revealed with giggle.

"Well, I didn't know this was a sleepover," Dad commented, disapproval lacing his voice heavily.

"It's not!" I insisted quickly. "We'll wake up Eric and send him home. Draco will be leaving, too."

"Yeah," Draco agreed. "All male teenagers will withdraw from the house before midnight."

"All right," Dad replied warily. "Be good."

"Of course, Daddy," I responded. With that, my parents retreated to their bedroom, Dad calling out that he would be setting his alarm clock for 12 o'clock to insure that the boys really had left.

"Sorry about that," I told Draco once they had left.

"It's fine," he assured me. "Your parents are just being parents."

"They tend to do that," I commented lightly. Then a thought struck me. "So am I going to meet _your _mother?"

"Are you kidding?" Draco asked incredulously, shooting me a look as if I was mad.

"No, I'm serious," I told him.

"You're not going to be meeting my mother," he declared firmly.

"Why not?" I retorted, getting a bit upset at how he wouldn't even consider the possibility. "Maybe she'll _want _to meet me."

"As if," Draco scoffed. "She doesn't even know you exist."

At his words, I stiffened. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"I mean, sure, I might have told her about the smart Gryffindor girl who infuriatingly beat me in all of my classes," he began, still apparently not understanding why this would upset me. "But she doesn't know I'm _dating _you."

"You haven't told her?" I questioned. I could feel the anger building up inside of me. What was his issue about telling people? Why did it come back to this _again_? And not even his mother! I could understand not telling his friends… I mean, I hadn't told _my _friends. But his own mother… Was I that horrible of a girlfriend? Was he ashamed to be in this relationship with me?

"Of course not," he answered as if it was obvious.

"Why not?" I demanded, barely restraining my frustration and desire to yell at him.

"You think my mother would respond well to finding out that I'm dating a _Mudblood_?" he spat back, frank and cold. Immediately my anger burst and I raised my hand to slap him.


	22. Of Revelations and Realizations

**A/N: So I was going to wait until Saturday, like normal, but I have some **_**amazing **_**readers, and I'm just so excited to publish this chapter! It's one of my favorites. And it's quite pivotal to the plotline. Anyway, a **_**huge **_**thanks to all of my wonderful readers and reviewers! **

"What the hell, Hermione?" I yelled, grabbing her hand before it reached its target.

"It's good to know what you think of me," she remarked coldly. Suddenly I understood. Sighing, I relaxed my grip but still held on.

"That's not what I think of you," I began. "Need I remind you that I'm _dating _you?"

"So why did you say it?" she inquired, not satisfied in the least.

"Because that's all my mother will see!" I exclaimed, throwing up my arms in frustration. "She's still all upset over the fact that I'm _friends _with Muggles. Imagine the horror if she found out I was _in – _"

I paused. Was I really about to say what I thought I was going to say? Quickly finding another description, I pushed that idea to the back of my mind. That was a topic to be hashed out while alone. "_A relationship _withone."

"You can't just _not _tell her," she pointed out, luckily not noticing my hesitation.

"I know that…" I began, sighing heavily and running my hands through my hair.

"I don't think you do, Draco," she told me, gazing at me intently.

"It's just… Merlin, Hermione! You know all of their reactions won't be pretty," I said darkly. "Some will be bloody horrific, I'm sure."

"Why do you even care about what they think?" she demanded in return.

"And you're telling me you don't?" I retaliated. "Have you told _your _friends yet?"

Suddenly she froze, mouth clamped shut tightly.

"Do Potter and Weasley know that you've been messing around with Draco Malfoy, Granger?" he challenged harshly, both of us knowing the answer. Suddenly a deep sense of disappointment hit me as I realized that I did know that she hadn't told them. "If you don't care how they react, why haven't you?"

"I…" she started, not able to finish.

"If you care so much about what they think, then why did you start this relationship thing in the first place?" I pushed, wanting her to remember.

"I have no idea!" she exclaimed, surprising me. That wasn't the answer I had been hoping for. "Maybe it was a mistake."

"A mistake?" I repeated, shocked and wishing that I could take the question back. This was not the conclusion I wanted her to come to.

"You heard me. We're kidding ourselves," she whispered, turning away. "So what, we were attracted to each other? That's all it ever was."

"What? No," I insisted. All of this was going downhill all too fast.

"I was stupid for thinking you had changed…" I heard her murmur softly. She rotated her head to look at me as she told me, "Nothing has really changed."

"Maybe not for you, but everything has changed for me, Hermione!" I responded, reaching out to catch both of her shoulders and have her face me. "Even before starting this relationship thing with you, my life has changed so much. I hate it, really, I mean, I hate the feeling of loosing everything I once had. Nothing's for sure and I don't even know which way is up and which is down. But having you here seems to make things better."

As I spoke, I realized that my words were the honest truth. I had been trying to figure out exactly why I liked spending time around the Gryffindor, and this was why. I had wondered why I could relax around her, and _this _was why. I slid my hands down to hold her arms.

"You said yourself that all your mother will see is my blood. How is _that _making your life any better?" she retorted, struggling to shrug out of my grasp. I sighed and let her go.

"Look, right now, I don't want to deal with that mess of telling my mother. I'm not like you. I'm not brave enough to risk everything I almost have back after losing it so soon. For Merlin's sake, I just lost my father, Hermione! Do you know how hard it is to not have him around? Even if it is just an act? Even if he's just filling a space? I'd rather have him yell at me for being incompetent than not be here!" I sighed heavily, feeling a pang in my chest that I had grown quite familiar with over the past few weeks. "I can't… I can't give up my mother right now. After some time, when she underst—"

"You said yourself that she _won't _understand!" Hermione shouted. "She hates me, and she'll hate you for having any sort of relationship with me. _Time _isn't going to change that!"

"You don't know her, Granger, so stop acting like you do!" I yelled back.

"You're going to wake up everyone, Malfoy, so shut the hell up!" she whispered harshly. Taking a glance around the room, I remembered that Eric and Emily were asleep not three meters away. Determined to hash this out, I caught Hermione's hand and quickly let her into the kitchen, casting a Silencing Charm around the room after entering it. Before I was even done with the charm, she dropped my hand as if it were on fire. That action, along with a stinging echo of her calling me 'Malfoy' struck me hard. She hadn't called me by my surname in weeks.

"Look, Hermione," I began again, running a hand through my hair.

"Don't 'Hermione' me," she spat.

"What the hell, Hermione? What is wrong with you?" I questioned incredulously.

"Maybe I've just realized what a complete idiot I am," she replied. "For thinking that this freak whatever could actually work in the real world."

"This _is _the real world!" I replied loudly.

"There's a reason I haven't told my friends, Draco," she informed me, her tone cutting me deep in a way that frightened me so badly I wanted to run away to avoid hearing the next words from her mouth. "You're not worth it."

"What?" I responded dumbly.

"I'm not going to chance loosing them for you. You're not worth it," she repeated. "Obviously you feel the same, so it really shouldn't be a problem."

Blown away by her assertion that she didn't feel strongly enough about me to even introduce the idea of getting along with me to her friends, it took me a moment to process her other statement. Did she really think this was a mistake? The word echoed in my head, each vibration striking me with wave of pain. Did she really think that I didn't want to tell my friends because I was _ashamed_? But then again, I was scared of their reactions, wasn't I? I was scared of loosing them, just like she said.

But I was scared of loosing her more.

"No, I've changed my mind. I don't care if they know. I'll tell them tomorrow. Right now! Just, please, don't do this," I pleaded, so afraid now that I realized how much loosing her would cost me.

"Why do you care so much?" she inquired, half-exhausted, like she wished I would just give up. Like she had.

"Why have you stopped caring all of a sudden?" I returned, truly wanting to know.

"I still care, Draco. I just know now that it's ridiculous to do so. Neither of us are willing to tell the people we care about most that we've been in this relationship, so it obviously is meaningless," she replied.

Meaningless? What did she mean by that? Did she not feel anything? All those hours that we had spent together, all the comforting touches, all the… everything. Everything. Just as she started to turn to seemingly leave the room – leave _me _– I took hold of her forearm and spun her back.

"It's not meaningless," I insisted, searching her eyes for something – anything – that told me she agreed. She looked at me sadly.

Desperate, I knew I had to show her that my feelings were real, that they were strong, that they _weren't_ meaningless.

Locking my arms around her upper body, I stretched one arm around her waist and the other up to her neck, pulled us close together. Staring into those brown depths for a moment longer, I saw surprise rush through them as I leaned closer and smashed my lips onto hers.

Needing her to understand, I tried to convey all of my emotions in that one kiss. Threading my fingers through the horrid hair I had grown so partial to, I bid her unmoving mouth to part for me. Although she hadn't reciprocated yet, I was just happy that she hadn't pushed me away. That emotion exploded when I felt her hands slide up my chest, snaking around my neck before yanking my head down closer to hers as she returned the force I applied to her lips. Allowing our kiss to deepen, I enjoyed the sensation of her flesh against my skin, her hair in my fingers, her tongue playing with mine.

After a few moments longer, I slowly and gently separated my lips from hers, letting my forehead rest against hers as I soaked in the moment. Opening my eyes, I saw that hers were still closed. Thinking I had convinced her that our relationship was anything but meaningless, I didn't even consider putting a filter on my mouth as I spoke my true feelings.

"I love you, Hermione," I whispered softly.

Instantly, her eyes shot open, hands reaching out to push me away. My heart contracted with a stab of hurt.

"I… I shouldn't have done that," she mumbled, staring at the hands she held in front of her. Then her gaze suddenly pierced my own. "Don't do that again."

"Do what?" I inquired, barely able to speak with the heavy weight in my throat and gaping hole in my chest at her response to the feelings I suddenly and completely accepted. With the emotions spinning through my body, I knew it was undeniable now.

"Don't tell me you _love _me!" she shouted, tears somehow appearing in her eyes. "Why must you make this so freaking difficult?"

"It's not difficult, Hermione! That's what I'm trying to tell you!" I replied, reaching for her again. She twisted away and I stayed where I was, feeling empty and cold without her touch. "I _lov—_"

"Don't!" she screeched. "Don't say it."

"It's true," I insisted, wishing for all the world that I could hold her in my arms and wipe away the tears running down her cheeks.

"How would you know?" she demanded. "You know nothing of love."

"How would you know what _I _feel?" I retorted, angry at her complete rejection of my feelings for her. It was hard enough to admit the emotions to myself. "I know I feel like I've finally found something that magically fits perfectly in my life, filling a space that's been empty for as long as I can remember. I know I feel like my heart's been torn out of my chest and smashed into pieces whenever I see you upset. I know I feel like I'm in the worst nightmare ever right now, fighting with you like this!"

"Well, stop feeling it!" she screamed.

"It doesn't work like that!" I shouted in response.

"Just remind yourself I'm a filthy, dirty, rotten _Mudblood_," she spat coldly. "That might do the trick."

After a moment of silence as we glared at each other, I shook my head slowly.

"I can't believe this," I uttered, half to myself.

"Well, you better believe it, Malfoy, because it's true. So get over your _feelings_," she spat nastily, "and get out of my house."

"What?" I responded dumbly.

"Get out," she repeated.

Not knowing what else to do, I spun towards the doorway to retrieve my coat. Hearing her burst into sobs as I reentered the hallway, I wanted nothing more than to go comfort her and fix everything. But I didn't. Figuring I would give her time to cool down, I followed her wishes and left the house, being careful not to slam the door like I wanted to.


	23. Of Tearful Explanations and Travel Plans

**A/N: Well, because it's a three day weekend, the Olympics have started, I get to have some major fun, and I have **_**wonderful**_** readers, I'm super happy. And because I am super happy, I am updating again! Thank you all for being there!**

Even before Draco left, I couldn't handle it anymore. During our argument in the kitchen, the weight of absolutely everything that this summer involved fell upon my shoulders, and I just became overwhelmed. We had already been arguing about telling our friends and family members about the fact that we were – _had _been – dating, and then he went and used that word.

That _word_.

He said he didn't think that of me, but I didn't know if I trusted him. Not about that. And even if _he _didn't, he openly admitted that his mother did. His mother thought I was worth less than the nonexistent dirt on her (no doubt) pristine shoes.

And I just couldn't even consider developing a relationship with someone whose friends and family members hate me.

But we had already developed a relationship of sorts, hadn't we? Wasn't that the problem? I already had… _feelings… _for him, feelings that weren't going to make my life easy, even if they did make a part of me insanely happy. Besides, logic told me that those feelings would be simple to get rid of and forget. If I made them disappear, surely all the conflicting emotions would go with them, right?

As logical as that part of my brain made it sound, the seconds I didn't spend yelling at him were spent screaming at myself. Something inside me whispered that it wouldn't be easy to forget. But I was scared. Scared of how my friends would react. Scared of the how I would react to their reactions. Scared of the feelings Draco said he had. Scared of the feelings I think _I _had.

I was so scared.

I ran out of the kitchen and into the hallway, retreating to my room before I even heard the front door open.

He must have heard me crying.

But did he come back to see what was wrong?

No.

Because he didn't even care.

And though I had told him that I hadn't believed him when he had uttered those words, I felt a cold knife cut through my heart when I realized that I had been right.

He didn't really love me.

Though I had heard her knock, I didn't really register the sound.

After sobbing for what seemed like hours, I managed to settle down a bit, curled atop my bed, hugging my pillow tightly, rare but constant tears gently sliding down my face. Staggered breathing – the slow, deep, shaky breaths leftover from crying your eyes out – was the only sound to be heard until she knocked.

"Sweetie?" I heard her call. "Hermione, are you okay?"

I didn't answer, staring at the fabric in front of me, wondering how long it would take it to dry and leave no trace of my waterworks.

"Hermione," she repeated, sounding worried and motherly as she approached. "What's wrong?"

Closing my eyes, I wished she would go away so I could deal with my nonsensical, messed up life later. Maybe never. Never would be nice.

"Honey, what happened?" she questioned, kneeling by my bed. "Everything was fine a couple of hours ago."

I looked to see what time it was. Five past midnight. She must have woken up to check if the boys had left. With that thought (_one of them had_), I closed my eyes again, fighting in vain to keep another tear from leaking out.

"Nothing," I mumbled, voice cracking slightly. "Nothing happened."

"Hermione, you've been crying," she responded, looking as if she was in physical pain at the sight. My mother loved me. I knew she did. "Tell me what happened, sweetheart."

"Oh, Mum," I sobbed, allowing myself to be encased in her arms. "How could I have been so stupid?"

She smiled sadly at me as she ran a hand through my hair soothingly. "You're my daughter. You're my Hermione. You can't be stupid. It's like some unwritten law."

Dismissing her attempt to make me smile, I continued. "Yes, I'm Hermione Granger. A Muggleborn." Obviously not realizing where I was headed, my mother's face scrunched with confusion. "And he's Draco Malfoy. Malfoy! Don't you see?" I demanded of her, eyes begging her to agree with me even if my heart wished she wouldn't.

"This is about Draco?" she inquired. "Did something happen between the two of you?"

"Draco _Malfoy_," I repeated, shaking my head at myself. Had I forgotten about that important factor? "We… we broke up."

"What? Why?" my mum asked, face contracting in confusion. "You two seemed so happy. What happened?"

"Nothing _happened_, Mum. It's just the fact that he's _Draco Malfoy_," I informed her, praying that the pounding of my head would go away. If it would take the ache in my heart along with it, I would have appreciated it.

"Why does that matter?" my mother inquired ignorantly. She didn't know. Of course she didn't know. "It never mattered before. What's changed?"

"Mum, it always mattered," I replied, sighing sadly. "It just… stopped mattering for a short while."

"Why did it ever matter?" she asked.

"He's a _pureblood,_" I explained. But, of course, she didn't understand just that. "It means his family's had magic in their blood for as far back as anyone can trace. There are no Muggles mixed into his family tree. They think non-wizard blood is tainted, _dirty_. I can't be with him."

"But he didn't seem to care about that before."

"He did before this summer," I told her, reminding myself. "It was practically everything to him."

For a long moment, my room was silent. Not knowing what thoughts possibly could be going through my mother's head, I decided not to care. I let my own thoughts dwindle away as I resumed staring at my wall. It was blue. Sky blue. The same shade as the sky on a fine summer day. I thought it was the prettiest color when I was nine. _Sky blue and soft yellow. _Those were the colors I used to say I wanted for my wedding reception when I was little. Back when I thought about that kind of stuff more often.

"Well, you said he changed," my mother began slowly. It took me a second to refocus on the conversation. When I remembered the topic at hand, I wished I hadn't. "Maybe he realized how ridiculous it is to consider someone beneath someone else because of their blood status."

"But he didn't really change," I whispered, keeping my gaze on the one miniscule spot of white on my clue wall from when Dad and I had bumped it while moving my desk into my room. "I just wanted to think that he did." I laughed darkly at my own idiocy. "Anyway, he's a Slytherin. My house at school unofficially _hates _his house. Not to mention the fact that Harry and Ron _officially _hate him."

"I'm sure they'll change their mind once they get to know the reformed him," Mum replied, trying to sound optimistic.

Sighing, I decided not to even try and argue with her about how _un_reformed he was.

"No, Mum," I answered simply. "They won't."

"Honey, you have to give these types of things time," she insisted, brushing my hair out of my face.

"Why does everyone think _time_ is the answer to everything?" I demanded of the empty air. Draco, my mother… they acted like time was the end-all, cure-all. Feeling guilty for reacting like that around my mum and rather drained after doing so, I reached my hands up to my face and rubbed it harshly.

"Even time can't help us, mum," I told her gently after a moment. "We just can't be together. Not in the real world. It's impossible. What would we go around telling people? I mean, he hasn't even told his own mother. I can't even imagine what she'd do if she knew. What would my friends do if they knew?" Hanging my head low, I searched my pillow for an answer that wouldn't come as my mother just wrapped me in her arms, saying nothing as she rubbed my back comfortingly.

"These weeks have been fantasies that could never exist in our world. I know it. He knows it. We've been fooling ourselves," I whispered sadly to myself.

Bright sunlight streamed into my room when I next opened my eyes. Realizing that I must've fallen asleep last night in my mother's embrace, I sat up slowly and brought my hands to my temples, rubbing the region in an effort to make the headache lingering beneath the skin go away.

After a few moments of silent deep breathing, I removed my covers and stood up, making my way into the kitchen.

"Well, good day to you, sleepy head," Dad greeted from the sink as he finished up washing a couple of dishes from lunch.

"Morning, Dad," I responded softly, not animated by any emotions yet.

"Morning? It's 1 o'clock in the afternoon," he informed me with an amused chuckle. "Someone stayed up late last night."

"Oh," I replied dully, reaching into the fridge for some bread and jam.

"Did you four have fun?" he questioned as he dried his hands on the towel hung by the oven.

"Yeah," I answered simply, not wanting to think about the night before. Silence filled the room as I put my bread in the toaster and poured myself a glass of water. As I sat down to eat, collapsing into my chair, I looked up at my dad and decided to act upon the idea that had come to me last night right before drifting off to sleep. I had to get of here. This town, those places, everything that could in some obscure way remind me of him.

And I knew the perfect place.

"Dad?" I asked quietly. He looked up at me expectantly and I continued. "Would it be possible for me to go to Ron's soon?"

"Ron's? Yeah, when did you want to leave?" he responded casually, pausing from his file of papers to look up at me.

"I was thinking in the next couple of days actually," I admitted, hoping he would say yes.

"So soon?" he questioned, looking a bit surprised and disappointed. I felt a smidge of guilt right then for leaving my parents.

"Yeah, Harry's birthday's coming up, and they're throwing this big party and I want to be able to help," I explained. I wasn't lying; after all, that was part of the reason I wanted to go to the Burrow. "Besides, Ron's older brother's fiancée is living at the house and she's really annoying and driving Ginny up the wall," I finished with a lopsided grin.

"Ah, so you're off to the rescue," Dad said with a smile. His face turned mock-serious as he told me, "You're right. Something _must_ be done."

Laughing heartily, I thanked him and then resumed eating my breakfast/lunch two-for-one combo.

"Have you consulted your mother about this?" Dad inquired suddenly – as if the thought had just come to him – when I got up to put my dirty dishes away.

"Not yet," I answered honestly. "Where is she?"

"Store," he responded simply. "She should be back soon."

"Then I'll talk to her about it when she gets home," I decided.

"Good plan," he replied, turning back to his papers as I left the room. Mum wasn't the only person I still needed to chat with before leaving for the Burrow. First and foremost, I had to write a letter to Ginny asking if it would be all right for me to come tomorrow. I also had to tell Emily. Holding one last girl night tonight would probably do the trick; that's what we did every other summer. This one would just have less warning. But she would understand.

Only for a fraction of a second did the thought pass through my head that Emily would most likely ask about Draco. Hoping that the boy wouldn't come by until I was already gone, I shoved all connections to his name into the back of my brain.

Retrieving a scrap bit of parchment from my desk drawer, I picked up my quill and began to write.

_Dear Ginny,_

_ Sorry for the delayed response. I kept meaning to write, but things just got away from me for a while._

_My summer has been fine. Nothing unusual to report, fortunately. It's almost empty, especially compared to the busyness of the Burrow, I bet. I've been lucky this year though, and it wasn't really lonely. I've had my friends to keep me busy and happy. I also had some relatives visit, and it was really nice to see them all again. I'm sorry that you are lonely with all of those people. At least when I arrive we can face the loneliness together._

_That's exciting news for Bill! But… Fleur Delacour? Of course I remember her. How exactly did _those two _meet? I can't believe she's staying at your house. Is it really that awful? I could imagine it so. Thank Merlin they didn't actually have the wedding next month. Just imagine the state your house would be in then! But I suppose that means you have to suffer with Phlegm (I can't believe you call her that! Okay, I believe it. Where did _that _nickname come from? You have to tell me the story when I get there.) for a bit longer, so that's a downside. As much as I am looking forward to coming to stay with you all, I'm thinking from your descriptions that it won't all be pleasant, especially if even your Mum thinks she's awful._

_Oh, I am happy to hear about Fred and George. It'll be quite amusing, I'm sure, to visit their shop. And I understand what you mean. About feeling useless, I mean. I feel that way, too._

_Well, I'm glad to hear that things are going well between you and Dean, even though I am grateful that you spared me the details. And it must be nice not to have to worry about that anymore._

_And actually, I was wondering if it would be all right with your parents if I came over sooner than planned. In the next few days, perhaps? As much as I love my parents and friends here, it'll be nice to see everyone again. Besides, I'm looking for a change. Things have been too abnormal here. Although the Muggle world is very much aware of the events occurring throughout the country, many ignore it and most do not put the 'unfortunate incidents' together. I think the government's tried really hard to keep as much of the population in the dark as possible about many of the attacks we hear about in _The Prophet. _I don't mean to give the impression that people aren't panicking or worrying about travel or these public attacks, but they don't know the whole truth, so they don't worry as much as they probably should._

_I've been lucky as well. My parents haven't inquired much about the events of the Wizarding world. I think they've been distracted by things more close to home. And since I haven't exactly been open about the war, they don't even know of its existence. I just don't want to have them worry about me, you know? And I'm pretty positive that my mum might even react like yours… I can't risk not being able to go back to school. I can't even imagine your Mum not letting you go to Hogwarts. I'm glad to hear that your Dad was able to calm her down._

_I doubt my summer's been 'better,' but it will be once I get to see you all again, I'm sure. Ask your mum about me coming over soon, okay?_

_Hopefully I'll see you soon,_

_Hermione_

Going over my words, I couldn't keep myself from shaking my head gently, hating the way I could read another level of meaning with practically everything in ink. Not wanting to think about that, I hoped Ginny wouldn't catch on. I didn't want to deal with the mess of explaining everything to her. No one needed to know.

I knew it was horrible and cowardly of me to run, but my emotions weren't exactly normal. Hopefully they wouldn't get suspicious. Well, hopefully _Ginny_ wouldn't get suspicious. Harry and Ron were too dense to even consider worrying about.

"Well, all I need to do is forget," I mumbled under my breath, trying to convince myself that it would be simple.

Start one step at a time… step one: pack.


	24. Of Debating Worth and Spilling News

**A/N: I apologize profusely to all of my readers. I just had a bad couple of weeks. I would give details… but they were those kinds of bad that you really simply don't want to talk about. But I hope to make amends by bringing you the next, rather long chapter now. And maybe you'll be more inclined to forgive me if you remember that if I wasn't making this one long story, this would be the last one… but it isn't! Because we're sticking the whole tale inside this story!**

**Again, thanks to my wonderful, amazing readers! I really wish I could respond to those anonymous reviewers… would it bother anyone if I started doing so in future chapters?**

**Anyway, enjoy!**

Storming home hadn't helped at all. If anything, the time to think had made me even more angry. She was acting so irrationally. First over the not telling people thing – which I understood, truth be told – and then over my admittance. Frustration, at both her and myself, overwhelmed me as I reached just inside the grounds. Not wanting to chance a meeting with my mother, I stopped to sit and think on the nearest bench.

Cradling my head in my hands, I let out a broken sigh.

_You're not worth it._

That phrase of hers echoed through my head over and over again. According to her, she couldn't have both me and her friends, and they were more important. They mattered. Evidently, _they _weren't meaningless. Of course, a matter of mere hours ago, I hadn't been willing to spill the news to my acquaintances either, but that was different. I didn't think that she was meaningless. It was just… It was hard to explain! So many people I knew wouldn't have understood.

And she was right – I hadn't wanted to tell them. I had wanted to avoid telling them, lying to them, keeping it from them because I was afraid of their response. But that was _before_. Before I realized just how much she meant to me. Before I realized that I love her.

_Love._

It was such a strange word, with powers beyond my imagination. Truth be told, I didn't feel like I knew what love actually was. I was young! What teenager 'in love' truly knows what love is before they fall? Wasn't it all a bunch of silly dreaming and blind belief in foolish fantasies? I had thought so.

But when she had called our relationship meaningless, my heart retorted by showing me everything that she did mean to me. And all of those emotions and thoughts revolving around her and ways my brain seemed to have been rewired to place her first and foremost in my life revealed to me that I held feelings for this girl beyond a passing fancy, feelings I couldn't even begin to describe.

They had to be love. Love – whatever it is – was the closest collection of letters I could use to begin describing my feelings. It didn't seem good enough, actually. No word in any language would adequately summarize everything that I felt for Hermione Granger.

And once I realized that, once I embraced it with open arms, telling my friends – losing the rest of my life, even – didn't really matter. It would hurt, sure, but it didn't matter. She was worth it.

_You're not worth it._

But she didn't feel that way about me.

When did I become the one to stand up for myself and she turn into the coward? Because that's what it boiled down to. Faced with the task of telling others that we were in love (didn't she love me? I had thought so…), she cowered while I faced them. Wasn't she the Gryffindor? The brave, courageous one? And I had always played the coward. I knew that – things were easier and safer that way. Just run, don't fight. But this… this was worth fighting for.

She was right. It was difficult.

Not the loving part. Loving her was simple, natural, _right_. Loving her came as easily as breathing. But dealing with the love when we're stuck inside this stupid bloody world was so difficult it made me want to scream.

Across the grounds, I heard the frantic flapping of wings at the sound of my pain.

Forlornly dragging myself up to the Manor an hour or so later, I wished desperately for my head to stop aching. Nothing made any sense anymore. Over thinking everything in the garden merely burned my brains out. All I wanted to do was sleep. Sleep away the hours before I could go back to her house and fix everything.

From the end of our conversation earlier that evening (or last night? It was past 3 now…), she made it clear that she thought we were through. Completely and irrevocably done with. But I could change her mind. Just conversing with her, rationally hashing everything out, would calm her back down. Then we could figure out how to go on from there. We would find a way to still be together. After all, I _loved _her.

We'd find a way. We had to.

Determined but exhausted, I started making my way up the stairs to the second floor when a voice called out from the parlor.

"Draco?"

Sighing and rubbing my pulsing temples, I considered ignoring my mother and just collapsing on my bed. Half of me didn't want her to see me in such a state, but the other half truly didn't care either way at all. But then a little voice reminded me that I would have to talk to her sometime, and really, why not pile the messy conversations into as small a period as possible? It's not like my life could get any worse.

"Draco, is that you?" she questioned. I couldn't even muster up the will to respond sarcastically that a burglar had gotten past the numerous wards, so I walked into her sight as an answer.

"Where have you been? It's nearly morning," she scolded, the slightest touch of worry leaking through her tone.

"Out," I replied in a hollow voice, no really caring if she got angry at my unhelpful replies.

"With those Muggle friends of yours?" she inquired darkly.

"Yep, those are the ones," I answered snottily. She didn't take that well – not that I had been expecting her to.

"I take it that I'm not going to be able to persuade you from associating with them?" she questioned, already knowing what I would say.

"Glad you've finally caught on," I deadpanned. Her shoulders fell in disappointed even as her eyes filled with a bit of anger.

"Don't you talk to me that way, young man," she shot. "If your father could hear you now, if he kne–"

"My father?" I laughed coldly. "Why should I care about what he thinks? He's in Azkaban."

"You will treat your father with respect!" my mother proclaimed, storming over to stand in front of me.

"Why? You've seen the way the Dark Lord's return has changed him, Mum! He's not my father anymore!" I retaliated, feeling slightly guilty when her eyes flashed with hurt and sadness. She knew I was right. She just hated it.

"Then don't do the man who raised you the dishonor of furthering his disgrace," she replied, gentler but still resolute. She wanted – ever so badly – to pretend that my father was still the man he once was.

"Even if he comes back, he'll never be the man he used to be," I remarked softly.

"He could be," my mother insisted quietly. "He could come back and change back! He could, I know he could…"

"Not if he knew about my 'gallivanting with Muggles,'" I commented darkly.

"You can't tell him that," my mother responded quickly. A look of desperation entered her entire face. "If he does come back, he can never know. Not until he's better."

"You act like he caught some disease or something, Mum!" I shouted.

"I just _believe _in him!" she retorted.

"Why? He _isn't worth it!_"

Hearing those words echo out of my own mouth made me freeze. What if my mother felt for my father what I felt for Hermione? Wouldn't it be worth it? Sure enough, I saw my mother's face fall after I spoke.

"He used to be…" she whispered under her breath. I don't think she was talking to me at all.

"I'm sorry, Mum," I admitted, running a hand through my hair with a sigh. "It's just…"

"No, I understand," she uttered quietly, retreating to her seat on the nearby couch. For a few moments, we were silent again, both of us heavy in thought. Then, she spoke again, voice gaining strength as she pushed herself to rid the subject from her brain. "What I still don't understand is why you insist on having Muggles for friends."

"I told you, Mum," I replied in a tone laced with exhaustion. "I enjoy being around them. We have fun together."

"But life isn't just fun and games, Draco," my mother argued, still not mustering up the conviction one would expect for such a conversation.

"I'm not saying it is, Mum. But they actually make me happy," I told her. As the adjective escaped my mouth, I thought about how I _was _happy. Until that argument with Hermione. But I would be happy again. I just had to talk to her.

"You've only known them for a matter of weeks, Draco!" my mother retorted, voice rising again as she wished I would flip around and decide I didn't like them anymore or something equally ridiculous. "How can a bunch of new friends make you happier than the friends you've known for years? Or your family, for Merlin's sake?"

"I've known two of them for years!" I replied loudly, hoping – and succeeding – to shock her with that fact.

"What is that supposed to mean? Just a few months ago, you _never _would have gone near a Muggle! This is just some recent teenage acting out because of what happened with your father!" she claimed, shouting now. I knew that she was partially right – reflecting back to why I chose to spend this summer as I had, I knew that I had wanted to do something crazy. But then again, she was still wrong.

"I used to play with Eric before I went to Hogwarts," I informed her coldly with a satisfied smirk. "Mummy and Daddy never even knew."

I watched with amusement as she opened and shut her mouth, not knowing what to say. Then her jaw clamped tightly, and I knew the yelling wasn't over yet.

"So you can find happiness with a boy you barely know and hadn't seen in years, but not with your own mother?" she questioned darkly.

"Oh, don't think so much of yourself!" I retorted hotly. "I was upset, okay? I didn't want to talk to _anyone _that reminded me of Dad."

"Fine," she exclaimed, throwing her arms up in the air. "Fine, I get that. But why _now_, Draco? What's keeping you with them? Why can't you just come back to me?" she pleaded.

"Mum… I'm not choosing them over you. I care about you," I told her, sharing words of affection that were seldom shared in our household. "But I care about them, too."

"But they're just _friends_, Draco. How much can you really care for a friend?" she asked, pleading for me to see things her way even as her frustration that I wasn't grew. "A few years from now, they won't even matter. You may never see them again after this summer."

"Who are you to say whether or not I will see them again?" I demanded heatedly. "And I know for a _fact _that I will see at least of them beyond this summer!" I declared, thinking of the school year, when Hermione would be in half of my classes and eating meals in the same room as me. "And they _will _matter. She will always matter!"

Eyebrows contracting, my mother froze as her lips curled into a frown. "She?"

My eyes widened momentarily, but I relaxed when I told myself that I didn't care if my mother knew. That would show Hermione that I wasn't going to hide our relationship.

"Draco," my mother began, eyes and voice becoming instantly stony. "Are you… _involved_… with one of these Muggles?"

"Actually," I responded coolly, meeting my mother's piercing glare. "She's a _Mudblood_."

Suddenly, for reasons I couldn't understand, the color drained from her face. "A… a Muggleborn?"

"Yeah, you might know her," I remarked pseudo-casually. I felt all the anger and frustration I had been feeling during and after my argument with Hermione bubble up inside me again. "Hermione Granger. Mudblood extraordinaire."

"You're with a _Muggleborn_?" my mother demanded, still stuck on that fact, just like I thought she would. "Draco, if your father found out…

"Yeah, I'm dating a Muggleborn!" I shouted. "And guess what, Mum? I don't care what _that man _thinks about it. And when we go back to Hogwarts – she goes there, by the way; that's how I know I'll be seeing her – there's nothing he can do to stop me from snogging her in front of the whole school if I want to!"

"You foolish boy!" she exclaimed, eyes narrowing at my attempt to get her riled up. "It seems to me that the only reason that you're 'dating' the girl is to spite your father and me! Don't you understand what you've done?"

"You wish!" I shot back, only taking in that last sentence, spoken strangely desperately, after I had responded. Deciding to ignore it (what did she mean by that?), I threw my hands into the air and declared to the ceiling, "Why can't anyone get it in their heads that I actually want to be with her?"

"Because you're a teenager boy who doesn't _know _what he wants," she sneered back. "You don't know what you've done, how you've ruined _everything_… and for no good reason at all!"

"That's not true!" I protested. "I _love _her!"

With this new piece of information in the air between us, her face broke into a completely shocked demeanor.

"You…" she started, unable to finish.

"I love her, Mum," I repeated firmly. A dark chuckle slid from my lips. "You know the crazy part? It's people like you that make her so afraid of being with me. She broke up with me tonight because she knew that we wouldn't be accepted by my own family. Don't celebrate yet though, _Mummy dearest, _I'm going back to her. I'm going to tell her just how much you don't matter."

Swiftly spinning around, I left the room with a shadowed sense of determination and fulfillment. Once Hermione knew that I wasn't just lying to spit out pretty sounding words, she'd understand and everything would be right again. With this thought in mind, I refused to give into the temptation to look over my shoulder and see how my mother had responded. I walked out of the room and down the hallway without hearing her react at all.

Served her right.

Strolling down the halls, I swept my hands at a collection of nameless items resting on a shelf, sending them crashing to the floor. When I reached my bedroom, I slammed the door as hard as I could and made sure to sweep everything off of my desk and bureau before collapsing back onto my bed and almost instantly dipping into a restless sleep.

"_Draco!_"

With a start, I slid my eyes open, noticing that it was still dark outside before my gaze managed to focus. Turning my head to the side, I saw my mother rushing to my bedside with a frantic expression on her face. What was going on? Hadn't we been screaming our lungs out at each other just a little while ago? Why was she looking at me like that?

My train of thought crashed when I felt my mother giving me a genuine hug, tears developing in her eyes.

"Oh, I almost thought… Oh, Draco! Oh, we need to – wait, I need to – oh, I'm so glad I found you! I was so worried…" My mother's ramblings made no sense to me, but I could tell that she was extremely upset. A good portion of me yearned to ask her what was wrong, but after our argument just a matter of hours ago, it would have been too awkward. And against the position I had chosen to take.

As she released my shoulders and stared into my eyes, the look on her face informed me that she wasn't sure whether or not she should say whatever her mouth had been opened to utter. Then, reaching her decision, she began to speak in an almost hushed whisper, even though the only other creatures in the entire Manor were a couple owls and some house-elves.

"Draco, you have to listen to me," she began. "Forget everything we talked about; it doesn't matter right now."

Eyebrows colliding, a burst of indignation sparked within me and I opened my mouth to retort.

"Not like that, Draco," she hurriedly continued. "Just listen, okay? I need you to listen to me."

Closing my mouth, I set my lips into a firm line to let her know I'd listen. After all, something was definitely wrong. If I hadn't noticed the tears and fidgeting fingers, the desperation lacing her voice was a clear sign.

"Your father," she started, pausing for a fraction to glance upward and bite her lip. "He… he escaped."

I froze instantly, shocked to the very core.

"Him and the – the others, somehow – I don't know how – but somehow they got out of Azkaban. No one else knows where they are, where they went, where they're going. The Ministry isn't going to tell the public until – well, they'll try to put it off as long as they can. But your father… he sent a message." She paused. "A warning."

Even as she spoke, her eyes were searching mine for a reaction. As her unexpected words sank in, I collapsed back onto my bed. Almost as soon as I hit the mattress, I shot back up, eyes seeking out hers as I met her fervent gaze with one of my own. One question burned my tongue and controlled my thoughts; nothing could be decided until I knew the answer.

With the intent of voicing the question that kept me from breathing, I opened my mouth. However, my voice faltered and then failed completely. Mother understood anyway and silently shook her head. Relief washed over me until she spoke again.

"Only her status," she uttered without moving her mouth. Suddenly, the world stopped and I panicked.

Now I understood what she meant earlier.

_Don't you understand what you've done? How you've ruined __**everything**__?_

I just hadn't connected it before.

"We need to get out. Go pack some necessities. Not too much, Draco, only what is absolutely vital," she stressed, trying to give me a reassuring smile. But her voice was empty of everything but desperation and her eyes showed nothing but fear. Still not trusting my voice, I nodded and headed to my closet, my body moving almost as if something else was controlling it.

Things weren't supposed to go like this. I was supposed to wake up in a few hours, return to Hermione's house, and inform her that I had told my mother about us. We were supposed to get back together. Everything was supposed to be _better_, not worse.

But now…

Maybe it was best that she had put an end to it. As I packed, I realized that she'd think that I accepted her ending our relationship and simply refused to talk to her anymore. She'd think that I really didn't care. She'd think it was over for me, too. She'd think I really didn't mean what I said.

She would be sorely wrong, and I wouldn't be able to tell her.

But she would be safe. Hopefully. I wondered how much my father knew. What if Mum was wrong, and he did know more than the fact she was Muggleborn? I shuddered at the thought. But just in case luck was on my side, I couldn't tell her anything. I'd have to cut all contact, destroy any path that could connect her to me. I had to protect her.

Even as I accepted the thought as fact, part of me shattered with the realization of what I was about to do.


	25. Of Foolish Ideas and Disappointment

**A/N: Sorry for the long wait everybody. I was sick for a week, had a crazy amount of school work the next week, and have been busy revamping the earlier chapters of this fic. And I finished the revamping! It was so much fun! And I really suggest that you go back and read the differences in chapter… uh, I think it's through chapter 8. I enjoyed myself. **

**And I hope you all enjoy this new chapter as well! I'd love to hear your thoughts!**

Since Dad hadn't known about my breakdown (and break-up) last night, he hadn't suspected anything was out of the ordinary when I asked to go to the Burrow early. Mum would be a different story.

While I was still scribbling down a list of items I needed to bring with me, I heard the front door open. My mother's declaration of the obvious (that she was home) sent a sense of worry through me for a fraction of a second before I forced myself to relax and finish my list. After quickly giving the collection of items a critical review, I flew to my closet and pulled out clothes, folding them over my arm in a large pile.

"Hermione?" my mother called, leaning her head in my doorway. When she saw the state of my room, with my trunk open at the foot of my bed and clothes layered in my arms, she stood straight, smile disappearing as she actually entered my bedroom. "Going somewhere, sweetheart?"

"Hi, Mum," I greeted, trying my hardest to seem casual as I gently placed the clothes in my arms on my bed and returning to my closet to retrieve some more. "Yeah, I'm packing for Ron's."

"Oh. When are you leaving?" she inquired. Obviously Dad had decided to let me spill my news. Joy.

"Er, when can I leave?" I responded in return as I dumped the next load on top of the others. I didn't want to demand permission to leave as soon as possible. If she wanted me to stay a bit longer, I knew I would. I loved my mum, I really did. Nevertheless, even though I would miss her (as I always did) if I left, I needed to get away from _him_.

Besides, I would have gone off to the Burrow soon enough anyway.

"Honey," she began softly, moving further towards my bed to touch the clothing on it. "Is this about what happened last night?"

"What do you mean?" I replied nonchalantly, steadily folding some of my shirts. Keeping my eyes focused downward, I still noticed when she rose her eyebrows, obviously not believing my charade.

"Hermione," she chided. Meeting her gaze, I knew the message that look conveyed: Don't lie to me. Sighing and putting down the gray shirt in my hands, I bit my lip and held onto the silence for a precious moment longer.

"I just need to get away, Mum," I told her honestly, voice not coming out as strong as I had demanded it to. "I just need…"

Taking a shuttered breath, I rubbed my temples slowly.

"Is it really that bad?" she asked, sitting down on my mattress and leading me to do likewise.

"It's not just Draco." Realizing that I had used his first name – something I had promised myself I would stop doing – I shook my head swiftly. "I mean, Malfoy. I meant Malfoy," I uttered under my breath before directing my words to my mum again. "It's not just about the break-up. Ginny wrote me and she's all alone with so many people coming and going and that feels worse than lonely without anybody at all. And there's this girl staying at her house that's awfully annoying, so that doesn't help things."

"But that's not really why you're going," Mum observed correctly – as always. Upon her urging, I let my fake smile fall into a frown that more accurately reflected my feelings.

"No, it's not," I admitted. "It's just… it's hard, Mum. Everything is going to remind me of him. All the places we've been to, all the things we've done together, even this house! Not to mention Eric and Emily! She'll ask about what happened, and that's just awkward. And Draco will still want to play ball with Eric, I'm sure, and I simply can't handle seeing him at the moment, Mum."

"I understand what you're talking about, dear," my mother replied soothingly. "But why are you running away? You're stronger than this, Hermione. You don't run in the face of hardship like this."

I knew she was right. I was acting like a coward, not living up to my Gryffindor values at all. And normally, I wouldn't run. I wasn't afraid of anything. Well, except failure. But I wasn't running because I was afraid of anything. I was running because… because… because it was easier than having to deal with everything. Difficult times usually just took perseverance and hard work, but relationships involved two people, they included feelings, and I couldn't just push through those kinds of problems by myself. I wasn't that strong.

"Because I'm not, Mum," I whispered solemnly, the sensation of tears building at my eyes. "I'm not strong enough."

"Oh, Hermione," she murmured, wrapping an arm around me. Immediately I accepted the comfort and let silent tears trickle down their natural path.

"I just can't handle it, Mum," I mumbled softly. "I still _feel something_ for him, but I know it's foolish and stupid and I'm going to end up hurt eventually, so I figured I ought to just get it over with, when I'm not too attached and my feelings aren't as deep."

"Sweetie, feeling something for somebody is never foolish or stupid," she responded gently. "And how do you know you'll get hurt? You're assuming that everything's doomed to fail with Draco, but maybe it won't. Have you ever considered that it will all work out?"

Humorless laughter escaped my mouth at her suggestion and I nearly broke into a sob. "Oh, Mum. It's not that easy."

"I know I always tell you that life isn't easy," she replied, lifting my chin to look me in the eyes. "But it's not always quite that difficult either. Some things do work out."

"But not this one, Mum," I assured her, rubbing away at the tear tracks on my cheeks and taking deep breaths to compose myself again. Mum also took in a heavy breath.

"If you say so, sweetie," she said, moving to reach for some clothes, hands quickly and neatly folding the fabric.

"He'll understand, Mum," I insisted, wanting her to actually _be _on my side, not just pretending to be okay with what I said. "He's relatively smart. He'll realize that I'm right." I paused for a moment, tilting my head diagonally as the thought passed through my brain, as if that would help it hurt less. "Besides, he doesn't care."

To my surprise, my mother stayed quiet. For a good half hour, she assisted my packing challenge in borderline silence. In fact, my dad's loud question about some file or whatnot had me nearly jumping out of my skin. Mum, too, had been surprised by the noise, but quickly recovered and shouted back that she would help him find it.

As she left, she stopped at the door, swiveling her head around as she told me, "I understand why you're doing this Hermione, but, for the record, I think you're underestimating Draco, his feelings, and your own."

With her body out of my sight, her words lingered in my head, pounding in their message which part of me wanted to admit had foundation.

But then I pushed that idea away.

_Foolish._

Later that evening, Emily called. Silently, I thanked Merlin that this conversation could take place over the phone rather than face to face. As bad as that sounded, the less personal the better seemed like a good idea to me.

"Hey, sleepyhead! You were still asleep when I woke up," Emily reported. "Usually you're up at the crack of dawn. Did you and Draco stay up late?"

Even without seeing her face, the tone in her voice told me exactly what was running through her head.

"Don't be silly, Em!" I chided in mock horror. "But yes, we did stay up rather late. He wanted to watch the entire trilogy."

"Oh, did he love it?" she demanded eagerly. "He loved it, didn't he? How could he not?"

"Of course he did. He thought it was magnificent," I informed her. Thinking back, I couldn't even remember if we had gotten through all three films, much less what Dra- he thought of them.

"Duh," Emily replied teasingly. "That's because they are magnificent!"

"Indeed," I responded simply. For a few minutes, Emily went on about the characters and plot in the film, with my input consisting mostly of short agreements. As we conversed, I laid down on my bed, staring at my ceiling and focusing on not letting my thoughts wander.

"So I've been thinking," she began, opening up a new subject.

"A dangerous past time," I automatically added.

"I know," she sang, laughing afterwards. "But back to my thinking… Mum was telling me about this art fair going on and it's not too far away. She wants to take the whole family, but I figured I would ask you if you want to come with. You can invite your parents, too. And the boys, if we want."

"That sounds like fun, but I can't," I admitted, biting my lip in an effort to not think about how disappointed my friend would be.

"What? Why not?" she questioned as expected.

"I'm leaving," I answered, swinging myself into a sitting position. "For Ron and Ginny's."

"Oh," she uttered. The line was silent for a while, but I didn't want to be the one to break it.

"When?" she asked.

"I'm not sure," I responded. "But soon."

"Soon as in a week?" she inquired.

"Soon as in a couple of days?" I returned, voice delivering a touch of regret.

"Well, so much for the art fair," she replied in a forced light tone.

"Em, I'm sor—" I began, tucking my hair behind my ear nervously.

"No, no, it's okay," she interrupted. "I understand."

"Still, I'm sorry," I repeated, truly feeling regretful that I had to leave my friend without fully explaining myself.

"Besides, you still have a few days here, right? We can do something!" she proclaimed.

"Sure," I agreed. "Anything you want."

"I'll have to think about this, but the plans will come," she promised.

"So, playing at the park and then a game/movie night at your house tomorrow?" I asked, knowing what the plans would end up being after hearing that line time and time again.

"I was thinking the same thing!" she exclaimed, laughing.

"What a shocker!" I replied in mock surprise before joining her in laughter.

"Did we want this to be a boyfriend thing?" she inquired, freezing the blood in my veins and forcing in thoughts I didn't want to think.

"Um…"

"Though I still don't know Draco's number," she remarked.

"Draco's not my boyfriend," I blurted out.

"C'mon, Mia," Em started slowly. "You two have been going out for weeks."

"_Two _weeks, Em. It's only been a little over a single fortnight. Someone can't be your boyfriend after dating for a single fortnight," I protested.

"Really?" she questioned, pausing. "Wow, I guess it has only been a fortnight."

"Yeah," I sighed. Even though it sounded like a stupid teenage drama – dating and dumping a boy in a matter of days – I wished that it had been longer. It had _seemed _longer.

"What are you going to do about your not-boyfriend, then?" she asked, suddenly realizing that leaving for the Burrow meant leaving _him_.

"What do you mean?" I questioned, pretending to not already know.

"I mean with you leaving for Ron and Ginny's," she explained. "Are you… are you going to break up with him?"

"You can't break up with someone you're not in a relationship with," I insisted.

"Don't pull that crap with me, Mia," Em responded, a bit harshly. "You may not want to call Draco your boyfriend, but you're in a relationship with him."

"No, I'm not," I whispered.

"What… did you already break up with him?" she demanded, tone softer than before.

"Kinda?" I replied sheepishly.

"Oh," she uttered before letting a semi-awkward silence reign. "I guess we don't need to invite him then…"

"You can," I offered, knowing that – as strange as it was – Emily and Eric had actually become friends with him.

"I don't want things to be awkward for you," she replied.

"But I don't want things to be different because of me," I protested. "Besides, Eric would probably want him to be there."

"Well, I guess I'll ask him," she decided. Then, warily, she inquired. "Hermione, is this because of Ron?"

"What?" I asked in surprise. I certainly hadn't expected that subject switch.

"Did you break up with Draco because you still fancy Ron?" she asked bluntly.

"No," I insisted, only then letting that little fact (had I forgotten? Surely not…) worm its way back into my head. Ron was… Ron. And it was true, I did fancy him. Or had. Did I still? I didn't even know. I didn't know anything, especially anything having to do with my own emotions.

"Are you sure?" she checked anxiously. "Because we never talked about it while you were dating Draco, but you never told me anything about any changes in your feelings for him."

"I'm sure I didn't call things off with…" I paused, afraid to let his name slip from my tongue. "Draco… because of Ron. But, honestly, Em? I have no idea what my feelings are. For either of them."

"Okay then, Mia," she answered. "I believe you."

We sat in silence for nearly a minute, holding the phone loosely to my ear as I strained to not let any thoughts into my brain.

"So… are your parents driving you again?" she asked casually.

"Yeah," I responded idly before we lapsed into silence again.

"Well, I guess I'll see you tomorrow," Em commented.

"Yeah," I repeated.

"Bye," she whispered solemnly.

"Bye," I echoed, staring up at my ceiling. I let the phone drop to my bed, forgotten, as my barriers finally fell and the thoughts came rushing in.

What was I going to do?


	26. Of Train Rides and Rain Storms

**A/N: Sorry, I was going to post this earlier today, but I got caught up in family Easter celebrations. **** Anyway, a huge thank you to all of my readers and reviewers! I hope you guys like this next installment! I personally love this chapter. It was so much fun to write. Want to tell me what you think?**

Packing hadn't taken long, especially since my mother allowed (more like commanded) me to use magic to do so. And the bag I brought was small and compact, easy to set on my back and still light enough so I could run when required. I hadn't thought that such extreme measures were necessary, but my mum must have known something I didn't.

Nevertheless, with that look in my mother's eyes, I wasn't about to pause just to engage in a Q&A session.

"Hurry, Draco," she prodded when she returned to my room donning a heavy cloak with a medium sized bag on her arm. I recognized the bag as one of her magical expanding kind, perfect for traveling. Throat still weighed down and mind still numbed with the implications of the situation at hand (which I felt surely hadn't even fully hit me yet), I silently grabbed my own cloak and tugged it over my shoulders.

After my fingers slipped nervously on the clasp a couple of times, mother came over and did it for me, pulling me into a short, desperate hug before running through a quick list of necessities. Robes, shoes, wand, emergency Muggle clothes, personal emergency kit of special magical items that mum always had me take everywhere. I nodded in response as the words fired from her mouth.

"Good," she whispered softly before giving my room one last, longing glance. Then she reached into her cloak pocket and pulled out a bundle of wrappings. Swiftly pulling away the fabric to reveal a simple stone that looked like it belonged on the bottom of a random lake or buried in the dirt of anyone's garden, she dismissed my inquisitive look and told me, "On three, Draco."

Understanding at once that this must be a Portkey, I swung my pack firmly over my shoulder and looped an arm over my mother as she counted off, our fingertips touching the stone simultaneously.

Jarred through the air, we landed somewhat clumsily in the middle of some woods. Not needing to look up to know the night still reigned in this part of the world, I tugged my cloak closer to my body and barely had the chance to glance around when my mother held onto my arm tighter and brought out her wand.

After only staying for a fraction of a second, we left the woods with nothing but a soft 'pop' and a couple of footprints to show we were ever there.

In quick succession, my mother Apparated us to a series of places, some which temporarily blinded me with their unexpected sunlight. Each Apparation yanked on my stomach further, pushing the strange and unpleasant sensation that I usually dealt with rather swiftly into a feeling that overwhelmed my body when she finally stopped.

When I knelt to the ground with the confusion and sickness sweeping through me, my mother tugged on my arm and urged me back to my feet. She didn't even meet my pleading eye has she pulled me along, forcing me into a light jog to keep up with her long strides. Through the buildings faintly touched with the teasing rays of a sun about to rise she wove, twisting this way and that way with the confidence of a woman who knew where she was heading. The streets we walked along were relatively empty – probably due to the early hour of the morning – but the stray passerby didn't pay us any attention as they went on their way.

Mind spinning from everything that had happened in the last few minutes, I didn't even bother to try to figure out where it was we were headed until mother stopped at a train station. By that time, the only thing I knew was that we obviously weren't in England anymore; the people were all speaking a foreign tongue, something not Latin based. From what little I had heard growing up, it seemed to be German.

Seeing my mother speak but not hearing the actual words come from her mouth, I stood perfectly frozen as she ordered and paid for two tickets to some undisclosed location, not even looking around at my surroundings. But when we sat down on a bench to wait for our train, I glanced down at myself and an idea hit my brain.

"Mother, shouldn't we change our appearances?" I inquired quietly.

"Not yet," she replied without looking at me or moving her lips. We returned to silence for the few minutes before a train arrived at the station and we boarded. Selecting an empty compartment, we left our personal bags in our laps during the trip. Shortly after the train started off again, my mother smiled softly at me and told me to sleep. Not having the will to protest, I let myself close my eyes and drift off.

"Time to get up," my mother's voice prodded, somewhere off in the distance. A fog slowly separate and her face blurred into sight. Mumbling incoherently, I reluctantly lifted my head to look at her before noting that I had been asleep while sitting up. This realization was quickly followed by another one – that we were in the compartment of a sitting train that my mother wanted to exit.

Swiftly standing up, I stumbled a bit after the sudden movement and then followed my mother out of our compartment and off of the train. Immediately, she turned towards some stairs to our left. More people were awake now, but none of them seemed to pay us any attention. Still, I kept my head bent to the ground as we laced through the crowd to a darkened hallway.

With a few twists and turns, the people slowly disappeared until there was absolutely nobody at all around us. At the point, my mother grasp my arm and spun me to face her. Part of me wanted to demand what was going on, where we were going, why we had to go there, but my mouth stayed clamped shut, most of my brain still whirling in utter chaos.

So, I listened to the silence as my mother nonverbally cast a few spells, not moving even as I felt my body contort slightly. My hair darkened and grew long enough for me to see it in front of my eyes, skin deepening to a shade not nearly as pale. Absent-mindedly, I wondered if my eye color had changed. As I watched, my mother appeared shorter and a bit thicker as her hair darkened considerably and curled while she pulled it out of her tight bun. When she looked at me, her chocolate brown eyes strangely still seemed like those of my mother.

"Where are we going now?" I asked those eyes solemnly.

"Just come along," my mother answered, laying a hand gently across my shoulders. She led us through the hallways and up some stairs until we exited the building. Outside, the sun was shining through some scattered clouds. Veering to the right, mum circled around, wandering around the streets for a while before approaching the station again. I shot her a questioning look, but she never even looked at me as she lulled over to the counter and ordered another two tickets.

Once again, we waited for the train to come, but since all the benches were filled with other passengers, we stood on the platform, watching the time go by.

_11: 32_

_11:33_

_11:34_

_11:35_

A train rolled into the station, but it wasn't ours. People pushed towards it, collecting at the entrances and struggling with bulky luggage. I watched them with tired and heavy eyes.

_11:46_

Suddenly it occurred to me just how long we had spent on that first train. I must have slept for hours, yet I still felt exhausted.

_11: 53_

I wanted to know what time our train would be arriving at the station, but I still couldn't muster up the energy to speak. Instead, I kept my attention on the clock, watching the second hand tick by.

_12:37_

Normally, I would have complained about the cramp of my legs, the pain in my side, and soreness of my body after sitting so still for so long. But the fog that covered my brain seemed to downplay my emotions and my reactions to anything and everything. When the train that apparently was the one we had tickets for rumbled into the station, my mother got onto her feet and pulled me onto mine, sending blood rushing down my legs. Prickling sensations tickled across and under my skin as we walked and boarded the train.

"You can sleep again," my mother urged softly after we settled into another empty compartment.

"It's okay," I answered, seeing how exhausted the woman before me was. "Why don't you take a rest?"

Smiling at me softly and gratefully, she cupped my cheek and kissed my forehead, thanking me before setting her bag on the seat next to her and curling up on the seat.

Hours passed, flying by with the scenery. My mother slept soundly, my cloak draped over the body that wasn't hers. Feeling the desire and unexplainable need to keep watch, I refused to let my eyelids flutter shut, something easier said than done when staring out a window whose picture quickly blurred and hardly ever changed into anything interesting to my brain.

Occasionally I would look away from the window when a noise from the walkway brought my attention to the passing passengers. For a while, I toyed with the slight fray of the cushion of my seat. With the temptation to simply fall asleep getting stronger by the minute, I decided to talk out loud to force myself to stay awake.

"I have no idea where we're going," I confided quietly to the patterned fabric of my seat. It didn't respond. Not that I was expecting it to. After all, I wasn't crazy or anything. Just very tired and very confused.

"I don't usually look like this, you know," I informed it. "My hair is lighter. So is my skin. But you couldn't have known that, so there's no need to feel bad or anything. I doubt even Herm— she would recognize me now."

Stopping myself from using her name (walls had ears, you know), I glanced around to make sure there were no visible eavesdroppers before relaxing a bit.

"How silly of me," I remarked. "Nobody would find us, right?"

The fabric lacked to reassure me like I wanted.

Holy Merlin, I was talking to a train seat and expecting it to respond. I _was _crazy.

Biting my lip and running a hand through my hair, I slumped back in my seat and remained silent for the remainder of the journey.

Hours later, we arrived at our destination. Mother pulled me along, guiding us through the collection of people without a word to anyone. Along the walls of the train station, posters and advertisements shouted their messages in a language I definitely recognized: French. I had been to France a few times over the years, visiting extended Malfoy family members or just traveling for vacation. Once we reached the exit and hit fresh air, I took a look around and recognized the city as none other than Paris.

"Where are we headed now?" I asked wearily as Mum turned down the Boulevard de Sebastopol. Pausing, Mum turned around to face me, eyes traveling over my figure, softening as she noted how tired I must have seemed.

"Why don't we get something to eat?" she suggested, letting go of my hand to walk casually by my side. "We have time before our connecting train leaves from the other station."

"Thanks, mum," I told her, trying to offer a smile. I failed miserably, but at least I tried.

"I'm sorry, Dra—sweetie," she whispered gently, the hint of tears shining in her eyes.

"It's okay," I replied, part of me wanting to refuse her apology and another begging me to tell her it wasn't her fault.

"It will be," she promised, walking a bit slower now down the street. "What would you like to eat?"

"Whatever you want," I responded, not caring what I put into my stomach. Truth be told, I wasn't even that hungry. I probably should have been, since I hadn't eaten since all day, but I wasn't.

Surprisingly, even though I wasn't feeling hungry, putting food into my body seemed to wake me up a bit, if nothing else. We didn't get a chance to sit down for long, so mum selected a small café down a side street and we ordered sandwiches. We spent a good quarter of an hour enjoying our food at a table in the corner of the café before walking down the street again. Mum asked if I would rather take the metro, but I told her it didn't matter to me and we just kept walking.

By foot was by far the longer route, but it worked out nicely. When we arrived at Gare Montparnasse, I glanced up at the clock.

_18:36_

Mum quickly led us to the correct train and we boarded, once again finding an empty compartment and settling inside. Whenever it was necessary for us to travel by Muggle train, I remembered, my parents would have magically locked the door and cast a charm on it that would keep Muggles away, but my mother hadn't done that on any of our train rides. As a matter of fact, the only times she had used any sort of magic since we left the Manor were to Apparate us all over the place and then change our appearances with some glamour charms.

Why was that? Couldn't we have just Apparated directly to wherever Mum wanted us to go?

"Mum, where are we going?" I inquired for the first time. The question had nagged on the edge of my brain ever since she had decided we would leave the Manor, but I hadn't voiced it while struggling with the heavy thoughts that kept me otherwise occupied.

"Someplace safe," she answered broadly, tone informing me that she wouldn't get any more specific than that.

"Why don't we just use magic to get there?" I demanded, a bit angrily. After all, we had spent all day using Muggle transportation and weren't even at our final destination yet.

"Magic can be traced," my mother muttered darkly, the look in her eyes sending shutters down my back. Then those eyes closed and she took in a deep breath. "Why don't you catch some sleep, Dr—son?"

"Why won't you use my name?" I questioned, noticing that she had stopped herself from saying my first name all day long, substituting it with pet names.

"Names can be traced, too," she answered, lifting a hand to comfortingly stroke my hair. "Now sleep, son. I'll wake you when we arrive."

"Arrive where?" I asked sleepily.

"Sleep," she commanded, hand rubbing my back soothingly. Under my mother's watchful care, it didn't take long for my physical exhaustion to take over.

Rain pelted the ground as we fled from the train station. Where we were, I didn't know exactly, but my mind guessed we were still somewhere in France. Suddenly an idea struck my mind, and I glanced around for a sign declaring our location.

_Bordeaux._

So we were still in France. Southwestern France, that is. Thinking back, I couldn't ever remember coming here before. Why was mum so intent on retreating _here_? Why did she think we would be safe in this place?

Before I could ask her anymore questions, she whisked us into the full fury of the rain as we crossed the street. Darkness covered the land with the lateness of the hour, and I wondered where she thought we would be able to find a place to stay at such a time of the night. Surely it had to be close to midnight. Maybe an hour prior to it.

Gratitude filled my mind as the water soaked my hair and skin, but glided harmlessly off my charmed cloak. Puddle after puddle seeped into my shoes, wetting my socks as well, but mother didn't seem to even notice as she wound her way through the town, eventually reaching an area that was completely devoid of any noises not delivered by the rainstorm. The stillness behind the flurry of raindrops put me on edge, so when mum stopped in front of a seemingly random door, standing in place made me extremely uncomfortable. Perhaps I was acting paranoid, but the area unsettled me.

Raising a fist to the wood, my mother knocked swiftly, sending a loud echo into the air that the storm immediately swallowed. Seconds stretched into minutes as we waited for a response and I wondered if the people inside could hear the knock at all.

Suddenly the door swung open, an arm reaching out to herd us within the safety of the walls. Thrown off balance, I only barely noticed the nearly silent conversation held between my mum and the strange woman who had accepted us into her home. Out of nowhere, a young man a few years older than me appeared at the doorway shooing us back into the rain before I could utter a word to anyone. However, before I got to voice my protests, he ushered us into a car.

"I trust that everything is in order?" my mother's voice asked from the front seat.

"Oui, madame," the boy answered. " Et elle est chez lui pour l'été."

"Good," my mother responded softly.

"Est-il ton fils?" the boy asked after a period of silence. Turning her head to look at the driver, I couldn't see the expression on her face, but since silence followed, I guessed she sent a glare his way.

That same silence continued for the remainder of our car ride. That is, until the vehicle came to a stop in what appeared to be the absolute middle of nowhere.

"Where _are _we?" I inquired, glancing around and not seeing anything at all that could be considered habitable as I got out of the car.

"Bon courage," the boy murmured as he pulled out.

"Mum?" I asked urgently, twisting around to talk to her only to find her already headed up a path. Breaking into a jog, I caught up with her and was about to start firing out questions when I saw the small house ahead of us. So we weren't stuck out in the rain after all.

Slams welcomed us into the house as I shut the front door, finally shielding us from the storm. Dripping and panting, I leaned against the wall as I took in the room. Definitely different from the Manor, the wooden floor and walls reflected the general feel of the entire room, with a couple of worn couches and armchairs surrounding a well-used fireplace and large, woolen rug. Mother dropped her bag onto one of the couches and sat down to rest, placing her head in her hands.

After a moment, I moved over to the couches as well, collapsing into the cushions with a sigh.

"Mum…" I began wearily, shaking my head slowly. "Why are we here? I mean, I know that Dad will be mad, and I don't want him to find out about Herm—who she is, but why are we here in France?"

"Because, Dra—" She sighed deeply, lifting her head to look me in the eye as she spoke. "Because your girlfriend isn't the only person your father found out about during his stay in Azkaban."


	27. Of Heavy Thoughts and Half Truths

**A/N: I'm really sorry, everyone. I've had a lot of personal issues lately. Really – like I'd rather not even think about them. And partly due to this mess of my life and the mood I've been in because of it, I've really struggled with this chapter. I know what I want to happen, I'm just having issues writing it out.**

**Anyway, I hope you enjoy it.**

When I first woke up that Saturday morning, grumbling, I turned over from beneath the covers and peeked at my alarm clock.

Sunday night. We had decided on Sunday night.

Unless, of course… _no._ I had to stop thinking about that.

Besides, would I really cancel my trip to the Burrow and disappoint Ginny and Ron and Mrs. Weasley and everyone else just because Draco Malfoy came back to me and professed his undying love, convincing me that he _wasn't _lying and it _was _real and we _were _worth fighting for and that nothing bad would happen if everyone found out?

But even debating the answer to that question was a waste of time, because he _was _lying and it _wasn't _real and there was no _we_. Not anymore.

Reaching one arm out to switch the annoying buzzing off, I rolled back over and slipped back into sleep.

An hour later, the sun bade me awake again and I resolved to get up. Rubbing my eyes a few times, I slid my feet into my slippers and dragged myself through the halls to the kitchen.

"Well, aren't you a little ball of sunshine," my dad remarked teasingly from the sink as I opened the fridge, retrieving the milk carton and pouring myself a glass. Letting my face reveal a small smile as I sat down, I was surprised to find that it wasn't as fake as I though it would be.

"I didn't sleep well," I confided.

"Ah, I'm sorry, sweetheart," he said gently, draping his drying towel over the oven door handle.

"It's okay," I replied, finding comfort in my milk.

"You'll need some substance for the day you have planned ahead of you," Dad advised.

"I'll eat something, Dad," I assured him. Accepting my promise to do so, he sat down at the table and cracked open the novel he was currently reading.

"Have you heard back from Ginny yet?" he asked casually.

"No," I answered. "She'll probably send a note sometime today."

"All right," he responded. For a few minutes, we remained silent, letting the sounds of flipping pages, popping toasters, and crunching toast fill the air instead of our voices.

"So about tomorrow…" my dad began. Lowering my piece of jam-covered toast, I gave him my undivided attention. "Your mum and I were thinking that we could make a sort of mini trip out of it. Leave in the morning, spend some time together as a family, just relaxing, maybe stopping in a few towns. How's that sound?"

"Sounds… nice," I answered, still processing the new information. So I had one day with Emily. Just today. After today, I wouldn't see her until next summer. Her or Eric.

I only had one day to wait and see if he came back. Panic started to grow within my chest. What if he came back on Sunday, while we were on the road already? What if he came on Monday? What if he returned to explain and talk and I _missed it_?

"Wonderful," Dad replied, content with his book once again.

But no. I couldn't think about _what if_ _this _and _what if that_. Playing the _what if _game always ended in a mess.

"Hey, you two," my mother greeted as she entered the room, dropping a couple of grocery bags on the sink. "Are you just getting up now, Hermione?"

"Er… yeah," I answered sheepishly. Sending me a sympathetic look, she momentarily laid a hand on my shoulder in comfort.

"Well, you better get dressed sometime today, young lady," she advised. "When are you headed to the park?"

"Not for a while. Till after lunch," I told her, grateful for her support and lack of making it obvious to my dad.

"Have fun, sweetheart," Dad wished me as he stood.

"Where are you going?" I asked, not aware that my parents had any plans for the day.

"Well, I need to get some things done for work before we leave for our trip tomorrow," he explained, tucking his book under his arm.

"But, hey, honey, why don't we have lunch with Hermione today?" my mum suggested. "We could have some fun, go walk around town, just the three of us. I can help you with the work after she's left for Emily's."

"Well, I suppose it could wait," he replied, smiling. "Are you up for it, Hermione?"

"Actually, it sounds great," I answered honestly, catching the grin bug. It would be nice to spend some quality time with just me, mummy, and daddy.

After an afternoon with my parents, I headed over to the park in a mood much better than the one I woke up in. Nevertheless, as soon as I spotted Emily and Eric holding hands while walking down the path leading to the tennis courts, I couldn't help but feel a stab of pain.

_Don't look around, don't do it._

Telling myself not to look for Dr— Malfoy didn't help, and I only grew disappointed when I didn't see him

"Hey, Hermione, right?" Eric's brother greeted as I walked passed the blanket spread upon the grass, where he and another boy were spread out, a pile of playing cards strewn all over the place. I couldn't recall his name, and didn't even recognize the other boy.

" Yeah," I affirmed. "Eric's brother, right?"

"Andrew," he reminded me. Then, gesturing to his friend with a nod of his head, introduced him as well. "And this here is Jon."

"Nice to finally meet the girlie Draco was droning on about," he remarked as a greeting, effectively causing my own polite greeting to get stuck in my throat, eyes widening for a fraction of a second at the mention of his name, willing the thoughts that accompanied it to just go away and _die_.

"Don't worry," Andrew said, probably interpreting my nervousness at the topic of Draco as a displeasure of their presence. "We're just here to 'supervise' those two," he explained mockingly, using his fingers to make quotation marks in the air.

"What for?" I questioned, thrown out of my uncomfortable and awkward thoughts at the new subject.

"Mum caught the two of 'em snogging in Eric's bedroom last night," Andrew explained with a telling head tilt. Jon was less tactful with his waggling eyebrows. "Now she has this crazy idea that they'll be shagging like bunnies every time they're alone or something."

"We gonna have to watch out for you and Draco, too?" Jon inquired suggestively, grinning slyly. Reddening at the statement and mental associations with his words, I sputtered nonsensically for a moment.

"Oh, is he going to be here?" I asked curiously after quickly collecting myself. As I spoke, I didn't know if I even wanted to know the answer.

"He's your boy-toy, ain't he" Jon replied off-handedly. "How should we know?"

"Jon," Andrew scolded with a scowl before turning back to me. "Sorry, he can be a right git at times."

"It's okay," I told him softly, still a bit surprised, insulted, and embarrassed by what Jon said.

"But I don't know if he's coming," Andrew assured me. "You'll have to ask Eric. Last I knew, they still couldn't get a hold of him."

"Oh, okay," I replied even quieter than before. I should have known that. Unless Dra— Malfoy had contacted Eric first, they didn't have any way of initiating communication with the wizard. So he probably wouldn't be here.

Was I relieved or disappointed?

Truthfully, probably both.

"Mia!" Emily exclaimed as she ran up to hug me, offering comfort one of the only ways she could while among others. "How are you holding up?" she whispered with concern in my ear.

"I'm doing okay," I answered, only lying a little bit, if at all.

"As far as I know, he won't be here," she informed me, seeming to instinctively know that I would wonder.

"Thanks," I responded sincerely.

For a while, we fooled around in the park, playing tennis with three people (very weird, a bit awkward, but strangely amusing), joining Andrew and Jon for a few different card games, lying in the grass while chatting about anything and everything.

When Andrew's stomach growls could no longer be ignored, the boys announced that they would be heading home. To my surprise, when we departed ways, Eric gave a kiss to his girlfriend and left with them.

"I didn't know tonight would be a girls' night," I commented to Emily as we strolled down the path to her house.

"Well, I thought that you deserved one," she replied with a smile. "So it'll just be you, me, Sammie, and Mum tonight."

"Well, don't I feel special?" I responded, returning the expression gratefully.

"You should!" she proclaimed playfully. "Sammie made cookies!"

I laughed loudly, feeling truly happy for a fraction of a moment. Right then, I didn't have a care in the world.

"Hey, every grieving girl needs chocolate," Emily assured me mock-seriously. "Especially when discussing ex-boyfriends and ex-crushes."

"He was never my boyfriend," I insisted. Instantly, Emily turned towards me, determined frown in place on her face.

"Hermione, you can't just deny that your relationship with Draco ever happened!" she exclaimed passionately. "Why did you break things off with him anyway?"

"Because it never would have worked!" I told her firmly.

"Funny, it seemed to work just fine there for a while," she retorted.

"Emily…" I began wearily, rubbing my temples. "You wouldn't understand."

"Maybe I would – if you would _tell _me," she replied, a trace of hurt lacing her voice.

"I—" I paused. _Could _I tell her? Just… let it all out? It would feel so good, such a relief, to share my burden, to tell someone else what was going on…

_Foolish._

"I just can't, Em," I said softly, feeling guilty even as I let the words exit my mouth.

"Fine," she whispered under her breath, turning back to the path to continue walking. Not knowing what else to do, I followed in silence.

"I lied to you!" I blurted out suddenly, slapping my hand over my traitorous lips in shock, mentally berating myself.

"You… About what?" Emily demanded, stopping again to face me.

"Er, I'll tell you," I promised, deciding that since I had already slipped a little, I might as well break down and spill everything. Well, a modified version of everything. "But can we wait till we get to the privacy of your room?"

"Yeah," Emily agreed immediately, seeming to cheer up a bit. As we got closer to her house, I felt the weight in my stomach grow heavier and heavier in dread. I hated lying, mostly because I was one of the worst liars ever.

"So what'd you lie to me about?" Emily questioned casually as she jumped onto her bed. I slowly copied her actions (with less zeal) before taking in a deep breath.

"I knew Draco before this summer, and I hated him," I admitted, staring at the folds of the blanket.

"I… you… wait, _what_?" Emily sputtered, voice filled with surprise and disbelief.

"He goes to the same boarding school as me," I explained. "Ron's family hates his and his strongly returns the sentiment."

"Wow. I mean… You knew him? But you both acted…" Emily remarked, eyebrows constricted together in confusion as she struggled to convey her thoughts into words.

"Yes, it was acting," I confessed. Here was where the 'tell Emily the truth' ordeal got messy; I wasn't about to break the International Statue of Secrecy just to share the burden of my hurricane feelings with my Muggle friend. "We both thought that the two of you shouldn't have to deal with your friends fighting all the time," I half-lied. Okay, completely lied. If it hadn't been for my status as a witch (and Dra—his as wizard), I would have openly displayed my previous despise for the Slytherin.

"How… though—Hermione, you are in such a mess!" she proclaimed, raising her hands to tangle themselves in her hair in frustration.

"What?" I shot back, not expecting the sudden outburst.

"You're telling me that you pretended to get along with a boy at you hated because his family has this feud with one of your best friend's family but somehow ended up falling in love and dating the guy only to break up with him when you had to go back to the friend that despises him that you happen to have a crush on _all because_ _you didn't want Eric and I to have to deal with the two of you fighting?_" Emily exclaimed loudly with sweeping hand gestures, striking me utterly dumb. "Hermione, are you stupid?"

"I, what?" I repeated, dumbstruck.

"You're an idiot," she decided, glaring at me.

"I am not!" I defended, crossing my arms across my chest.

"You completely are!" she retorted, gesturing wildly – something she only did when overcome with emotions she couldn't portray vocally.

"How am I an idiot?" I demanded, cocking my head to the side in anticipation of her answer.

"Let me count the ways…" she remarked in a mocking, singsong voice that earned a stern glare from me. "First, you hid the relatively harmless fact that you knew and despised Draco when we all got together. Why lie about something so trivial? We could have dealt with it!"

Now that had a very good explanation. I knew it. Something about… not telling them we went to a magic school… but perhaps we could have just left out the magic part…

"I just—" I began to protest.

"Then!" she interrupted loudly. "You go and fall in love with the boy. Do you _hate _yourself?"

"Hey! I am _not_ in love with him!" I exclaimed, wanting, needing to poke holes in Emily's argument.

"Fine," Emily replied curtly, rolling her eyes. "We'll avoid the 'love' discussion, but you _did _start dating the boy, snogging him, sharing affections, building emotions… I mean, seriously Hermione. If you hated him so much beforehand, how could you have changed your mind that quickly?"

"I… I don't know," I confessed, both to her and to myself. I had asked myself that question so many times recently, mostly when I lingered on the edge of sleep, in that place where Tinker Bell loves Peter Pan, where evidently I realize little tidbits about my own feelings.

"And to top it all off, you broke things off with him to retreat to your best friend whom he supposedly hates and you supposedly fancy," Emily continued, skipping over the issue of how transitions take place so _freaking fast_ for the time being. However, my gratitude for that transfer only lasted for a fraction of a moment, until my brain registered the new words from her mouth and I wanted to toss myself backwards onto her bed and cry myself to sleep. Or bury my head in a pillow and never get up.

The twirling thoughts inside my head had reached a point of mass chaos by then, leaving me silent as I thought and thought and thought and tried to work things out and tried not to think all at the same time while Emily just looked at me expectantly. Then she hung her head wearily.

"Just tell me you're not going to keep playing this game, Hermione," she pleaded softly. "You need to figure out your own emotions before playing with other hearts."

"I know," I whispered back.

"Do you?" she asked, eyes full of doubt. I didn't answer.

After a few long minutes of steady breathing being the only sound in the room, Emily broke the frozen ice by remarking, "I don't even understand how you got away with it. You're a horrible liar."

Both of us released a laugh at that – one that (surprisingly enough) didn't seem forced at all. Having relaxed a bit, she then suggested we go back to the kitchen and get ready to have some fun with her mum and sister. Pushing away the heavy thoughts that occupied my mind, I nodded as we fell back into our more typical behavioral patterns.

Somehow, we managed to have a good time that night.

Having bid Emily a proper goodbye, thoroughly packed all of my things, and triple checked every item on my checklist, we were finally ready to leave. My dad smiled broadly at me through the rear view mirror and commented about family vacations. When I reflected back, I realized quite quickly that we hadn't been on a proper vacation this summer. This little road trip would have to do.

Perhaps talking things out with Emily _had _actually helped, or maybe I was just getting better at this repressing deal, but my brain didn't hurt as much as we traveled our way to the Burrow. In fact, I felt lighter than I had since deciding to cut things off with Dra—him. I smiled and laughed and had a wonderful time with my parents. We joked and teased and strolled through some streets in this little town where we ate lunch, drifting in and out of the shops with slight interest but great amusement.

By the time we rolled up to the Burrow, I almost wished that we lived further away, just so I could extend this time with my parents. But by then, I was so happy that my excitement of meeting up again with Ron and Harry and Ginny bubbled over and swept away some of my residual sadness. It had seemed like so long since I had seen them.

Quite obviously, Harry hadn't arrived yet, but Mrs. Weasley and Ginny came out to greet us almost immediately, scooping me into warm, welcoming hugs that made me forget about the woes and dramas of the past week.

"Thank Merlin!" Ginny remarked as she pulled back from our hug with a smile. "I thought I was going to _die_ if I had to deal with Phlegm all by myself for any longer."

"Why do I get the sense that I've been dragged into the fray?" I responded teasingly.

"Oh, just wait till you see how immature the boys are around her," Ginny whined with a roll of her eyes. "Especially Ron."

"Where is he?" I questioned, eager to see my red-headed friend again.

"Hermione!" said red-headed friend greeted loudly.

"Ron! It's so good to see you again!" I exclaimed, overcome with the bubbly feeling that had encompassed my being all day long as I reached in for a hug with him, too.

"Er, you, too," he returned, flushing slightly pink. I felt my own cheeks burn as I pulled away.

"Let's get your things inside now, dearie," Mrs. Weasley suggested in that affectionate tone of hers. "That way you can relax and not have to worry about it later."

With everyone lending a hand (and a few grumbles from Ron), we soon transferred all my belongings from the boot to the room I would be sharing with Ginny. With my parents conversing with Mrs. Weasley downstairs, laughter spilling from Ron and Ginny, and the sun shining through the trees to light the window next to my bed, I smiled.

Everything was going to be all right now that it all was returning to normal. The Burrow, Ginny, Ron, Harry coming soon, the rest of the Weasley family, no Draco…

Closing my eyes and dropping the corners of my lips into a frown, I cast that name out of my head.

As long as I didn't think about _him_, everything would be all right.

Shaking my head and squaring my shoulders, I replaced the smile on my face and went downstairs to join the people in my life that would always matter.


	28. Of Hidden Suffering and Old Memories

**Disclaimer: If I were JKR, I wouldn't be barely scraping by to pay for my college tuition. Unfortunately, scraping is occurring. Therefore, I can't possibly be JKR. Whoa, that deductive reasoning was brilliant! I is a **_**genius**_**!**

**A/N: Now we get to return to Draco and finally get some answers! A titanic thank you and giant bear hug to all of my readers and reviewers! You made my terrible, horrible, no good, very bad week a little brighter.**

**Now, want to tell me what you think about **_**this **_**plot twist? =D**

"What? Mum, what do you mean?" I inquired, completely taken aback to hear those words from her lips.

"I…" Her eyes slipped closed for a moment, reopening with a distinctive sheen. "I've thought about telling you… but I just didn't know how. I was so ashamed, so worried about what Lu—what your father might do…"

"Just tell me," I urged, desperately wanting to know what my mother was hiding from me, what she had been hiding from my father.

"I… I don't know if I should," she murmured, gazing at me with gentle eyes layered in pain.

"Mum, _what is it?_" I demanded, feeling a spark of anger – probably the most emotion I had managed to stir up since we left on this insane trip. As I tried to figure out what was going on, a thought struck me. "Are you cheating on Dad?"

"No!" she protested earnestly, shaking her head repeatedly, eyes wide with anxiety. "I could never do that. I loved your dad, I really did." The unspoken difference between my father and the man we were running from hung in the air around us, brought into the room by her slip. Quickly, she corrected herself under her breath, mumbling, "I meant, do. I still do."

"Then what _other person_ did he find out about?" I questioned, not understanding anything at all any more. Staring directly at me, she stayed silent for a long stretch of time.

"Your… my daughter," she whispered at last, seeming so small and afraid, like a mouse caught in a corner by a big, fat, grinning house cat. Although I would have sworn that I couldn't have been more confused, those two words spun my world off its axis.

"Your… daughter?" I echoed stupidly, blinking over and over and over in an effort to… what? Speed my brain up? Force the world to make sense again? I had no idea. I didn't know anything in that moment. "I have a sister?"

"Half-sister," she corrected shamefully, eyes clouded over with disappointment, worry, and regret – a mixture that only added to the boggling of my mind.

"Half… but you said…" I began, trying to fit together the pieces. If this girl was supposedly my half-sister and my mother's daughter, we must have different fathers. But she had just said she was faithful to my dad, so how…

"I was raped," my mother admitted softly, gaze dropping to the fabric of the couch cushion we leant against. From her tone alone, I could tell she still hated the subject, was haunted by it. She spoke so quietly, it seemed to almost be nothing more than a whistle of the wind. Perhaps the words were too heavy, too difficult, too depressing to release into the world any louder. After all, hearing them at that small volume blew me away. Thousands of questions crowded my brain, but I couldn't think and everything froze, my mouth open slightly in its speechlessness.

"It was a couple of years after the first war," she continued, voice retaining its emotion, but earning the hollow, empty echo that accompanies the reporting of past terrors. "Maybe not even that long. You were young though, too young to remember."

A pause filled the room as she slipped her eyes closed. When they opened again, they seemed to focus on something very far away, not in the room, not even in this world. "He blamed your father for what happened to his children. He was upset that your father hadn't gone to Azkaban. He thought our family needed to be punished properly, and since the authorities hadn't, he decided to take matters into his own hands.

"I had been out shopping in London. He must have been following me. As I took out my wand to Apparate back to the Manor, he jumped out and took it from my hands. We struggled. He was stronger. I tried to find my wand, but I had gone down a dark alley to avoid being seen doing magic. Everything happened so fast, but time went by so slowly. He seemed to have me captured for a long time in my mind.

"I was… lucky. I had been running late as it was, so your father got worried. He came looking for me. He found that… he found me in the alley, being attacked, and he killed my rapist instantly." Mum closed her eyes again, no doubt flashing back to the scene that she painted. Even with the limited tools of my imagination, I was horrified. I had heard stories about girls getting… violated, but older women, too? And my own mother?

"So much was going on," she mumbled, eyelids still blocking out the real world as she drifted into her memories. "We kept it a secret. All of it. The rape, the killing… the child." At this point, a collection of water skimmed the bottom of my mother's eyelashes, threatening to stain her cheeks. "Lu—your father didn't want the baby, of course. _I_ didn't want it. It was… a painful reminder of the… attack. And it was half _him_," she spat, venom and anger and resentment suddenly and completely taking over her voice. Then she sighed heavily, resting her head against the crook of her arm, leaning against the back of the couch.

"But it was also half _me_, so we couldn't just… I couldn't just _get rid of it_." She bit her lip, silently nodding her head, as if reassuring herself about some question that had been lingering in her mind for a long time. I wondered how much longer she would be burdened by this secret I didn't even realize she had been carrying around. "We… I made plans to leave it with someone else, have someone else raise it. Lu—your father never wanted to see or mention it again."

"But if Dad knew, then why is it such a big deal that he found out about her? What could he have found out?" I questioned, not understanding how all these new puzzle pieces fit together into the picture I was striving to construct.

"Because… because Luci—because he _wanted _to get rid of it," she admitted, a tear spilling into the cavity next to her eye. "He told me to bring it to term and have the baby someplace else, somewhere he didn't have to look at me or see me give birth. So I came here, to this town, and stayed in this little place, where no wizard or witch could ever find me. We wouldn't want them to find out, after all," she exclaimed darkly. "But when the time came… I couldn't do it," she confessed, voice breaking. Lifting her head, she opened her eyes and looked directly at me.

"I couldn't kill my baby," she sobbed, broken and fragile. How could something be fragile but already broken at the same time? But she was, she was. The pieces of her that remained, those that were already broken, were so fragile that I thought she would shatter right before my very eyes. How could I not have seen this? All my life, my mother, the woman that raised me…

"I should have, but I couldn't," she murmured, over and over, steady sobs seeming somehow… controlled, quieter than they should be, like she had practiced keeping these emotional outbursts to herself. "I couldn't kill my baby, my little girl. Even though she was… _dirty_, _repulsive_… but so small, so beautiful…"

"Mum…"

The word barely scraped past my throat, which seemed swollen and heavy and thick and worthless at the moment. Even if I had been able to speak, all words flew out of my head, like I never learned a single language. Everything was just… blank. But not pure. Not blank like an empty piece of parchment, waiting to be written on and filled and given life; blank like a wall covered in black paint, all signs of previous life hidden from view, leaving only a dark void in its place.

I don't even remember reaching forward, or pulling my mother into my embrace as if she was the child among us. I don't recall the moment she turned to me and let her arms wrap around my shoulders, or the second when tears first tracked down my face. But the sound of her steady sobs getting louder and irregular as a wetness stained a spot on my shoulder, the shaking of her worn and fragile body as it trembled… I remember that.

Grief swept over me, dragging down my eyelids, pulling me into a world without light, a world with only the sound of her crying, the touch of her warm grip that should have offered comfort instead of demanding it, the taste of my own tears – tears shed for a suffering mother who had kept her pain hidden for so long, for a father who was dead in every sense of the word but physically, for an unknown and mysterious sister, and maybe – just maybe – a few for a girl I had to leave behind.

Time passed without either of us caring. Eventually my mother's sobs calmed into shudders and gasps, which in turn slowed into deep breaths as she slipped into sleep. Gently extracting myself from her embrace, I laid her down on the couch and grudgingly dragged my feet around the small cottage. Aimlessly, I wandered down the hall into the cramped kitchen, observing the square, wooden table barely suitable for four occupants, dirty cupboards, rusting sink, yellowing refrigerator with an unemotional eye, not even bothering to check if there was food hidden away behind any of the concealed spaces.

Turning back into the hall, I prodded open the next door I came across, discovering a tiny bathroom covered with enough filth for half a dozen rooms twice its size. However, my bizarrely apathetic temperament at the time didn't call for a nose wrinkling or disgusted scowl, like such a site usually would earn. Instead I merely cast a glance around and shut the door again before moving on to the room across the hall.

Like everything else in this cabin, the bedroom was small and looked like it hadn't seen human life in months. But only months; not years or even decades. According to my mother, she had been here when she gave birth to my… sister, and that was a couple years after the war.

I would have been a toddler. Surely I would have noticed my mother's absence. Why didn't I remember her not being there? Was I too young? Would I have remembered age three if I been there to experience the birth of my baby sister?

Closing my eyes, I tried to imagine my life redrawn to fit in another child. I had always wanted a brother or sister (okay, a brother mostly, but a sister would have been better than no one) when I was little, but as I grew older, I liked not having to share my toys, space, parents. Imagining a blonde little girl running down the halls of the Manor with a fancy dollie in one hand, being chased and teased by her big brother (who was supposed to be me, I guess), the scene seemed so unreal that it melted away faster than an ice cube on a hot summer day. I just couldn't see it.

In all honestly, I probably was still in denial. I probably would stay there until I actually met the girl, maybe for even longer than that.

Blinking my eyes several times, I concentrated on the bedroom in front of me. A single bed took up most of the space, with a narrow wardrobe and miniature set of drawers on either side. Blank, off-white boards sandwiched the beige comforter and matching pillows settled at the head of the bed. Slowly walking towards it, I sat down on the old mattress, sending a soft creak through the room. Giving in to the temptation to collapse backwards, I let my arms land arbitrarily at my sides, my lower legs dangling off the edge of the bed carelessly.

How long would I be here? What exactly did Mum want to accomplish by coming here? Would we be taking my mysterious sister away with us? Where would we be going next? Did my sister even know she was my sister?

With all of these questions spinning through my head, I groaned and rolled onto my side, staring at the set of drawers just beyond my reach. Curiosity swept over me, bidding my hand to stretch out and grasp the peg handle. After opening the drawer, I half-crawled my way across the small bed before flipping my legs over the edge to peer inside.

To tell the truth, I was expecting it to be empty. To my surprise, within the drawer sat a brown book, not big or intimidating enough to be an informational text, not small or colorful enough to be a paperback novel, it looked like a journal. Apprehensively, I reached into the drawer and pulled the book out. The leather cover revealed its obvious age, bent spine and worn pages reporting how often its owner would flip through its contents. Just as my fingers moved to open the front cover, I froze. If this was my mother's journal that she kept while staying in this cabin – as I suspected it was – would she want me to read it? Would she want anyone to read it? Doubt nibbled on my brain, alongside the promise of future guilt if I acted on my curiosity.

Then I noticed a corner of a piece of paper sticking out of the bottom of the book. Tilting my head to the side, I slipped it out from in between the pages. Instantly, all my attention focused on the piece of paper, or rather, on the picture on that piece of paper.

The image depicted a tiny baby girl, dressed in a simple yellow dress. Her dark brown hair barely reached her forehead, but slight curls around her ears predicted at least wavy hair in her future years. Since she was sleeping, I couldn't see what color her eyes were, but I remember someone telling me once that most baby's eyes were blue when they were first born anyway. She did, however, have the thinnest pink lips I'd ever seen, accompanied by a delicate nose. Above everything else, it was the way her tiny fingers curled around the finger of the woman holding her that made her seem so sweet and innocent. I didn't need to look at the woman holding her to know that it would be my mother.

And this was my sister.

I was surprised to note that her hair was, in fact, brown and not blonde. I had assumed, of course, since my parents and I all had naturally blond hair. But then again, the baby girl was only partly my sister.

Without my permission, my fingers reached out to lightly touch the cheeks of this baby that was so small, so innocent, so dependant. How could anyone ever leave her?

Closing my eyes, I took in a deep breath and flipped the image upside down, planning on placing it back inside the journal, attempting to forget about it, and fall asleep on the bed.

However, when I opened my eyes again, the back of the paper also caught my eye. There was something there. Something written in ink.

_Pavo Rachelle_

Murmuring the words aloud, I immediately realized it was a name – her name. The name of my sister.

Gingerly, I set the book on top of the chest of drawers, leaving the handwritten declaration of my sister's name openly facing the room. Laying back down, I let my gaze drift to the ceiling before slipping them shut, blocking off all sight.

Right when I approached the edge of sleep, I sat up, reached for the picture, and flipped it back over to reveal the image of the little baby, warm and comforted in her mother's loving arms. As I returned my head to the pillow beneath it, the image flashed before my mind one final time.

Only then did I notice the tear stains running down my mo— _our _mother's face as she held her little girl.


	29. Of Female Friends and Muggle Mystery Men

**A/N: Sorry guys! I was going to post this last weekend, but I went out of town to go to my uncle's graduation (He's such a nerd! He majored in aeronautical engineering and minored in physics, but I love him, since he's only five years my elder and I grew up three blocks from him, meaning I basically saw him as the big brother I never had. We used to walk to elementary school together! Anyway, rant about my uncle is over.) on Saturday and ended up staying with family for Memorial Day and I forgot my laptop, thinking 'Why would I need that?' and totally forgetting that I need it to update!**

**So anyways, here is the next chapter. Not my favorite, but necessary. Next chapter will be Draco again, and that's going to be fun. Want to tell me what you think?**

"She's so annoying!" I whined, throwing my head back to rest on my propped up pillow. My first week back at the Burrow had been more enjoyable than I anticipated. Perhaps I wouldn't miss my parents and Emily all that much after all.

"I don't understand how Bill can live with it," Ginny grumbled, disappointed with her arguably favorite brother and his choice of bride. "I thought he was beyond the superficial beauty crap."

"He's still male," I pointed out. Ginny and I shared a look full of annoyance towards the testosterone-pumped population at large.

"Thank Merlin Dean doesn't overly act like that," Ginny remarked.

"Like what?" I inquired, sitting up a tad more straight at the mention of my friend's latest boyfriend.

"All obsessed with a girl's looks and distracted by whatever blonde bimbo with a big rack walks by," Ginny explained, rolling her eyes. "Unlike some red-headed brother of mine."

"Bill doesn't look at anyone but Fleur," I argued, sticking up for the man, even if I didn't understand his taste in women.

"I meant Ron," Ginny said with a wide grin, finding it further amusing when I groaned in understanding and agreement. Then the red-head turned serious. "But I know. I think Bill truly cares for her."

"Yeah," I agreed solemnly, thoughts twisting into how caring the couple had acted towards each other.

"I hope whoever I marry will treat me like that," Ginny commented lightly, eyes slightly glazing over with dreams of the future.

"Think it'll be Dean?" I questioned, flipping onto my stomach to hold my pillow beneath my chin.

"Nah," the other girl replied honestly. "I like him and all, but I…"

When Ginny started biting the inside of her lip, body still as a statue as her expression gained a touch of sadness, I knew where her thoughts had gone.

Although the red-head would deny it, I had always suspected that Ginny's crush on Harry had never completely faded away. Occasionally I would spot the younger girl glancing wistfully at my best friend or smiling softly when his sleepy self stumbled down the staircase for breakfast. For some reason though, Ginny developed the idea that Harry would never like her in such a manner, or that her feelings made him uncomfortable. Although I was sure that Harry _was_ a bit nervous and unsure how to respond to having his best friend's little sister crushing on him, I wasn't as sure that the story ended there. Over the years, Harry had gotten to know Ginny on a level more personal than Little Sister of my Best Friend, and I would daresay the two would be good friends even if Ron was out of the picture.

Maybe it was that very space that Ginny allowed herself from Harry that let their friendship bloom, I didn't know, but every once in a while, the thought would pass through my brain that Ginny still seemed to be acting. Sometimes it was easier to spot, like when the red-head felt needy or alone or was stuck in one of her Harry daydreams, but most of the time – I had to admit – the girl knew how to keep up a façade.

"How are the two of you doing?" I asked softly, wondering how my friend could be a relationship with someone when her heart belonged to another boy.

"Oh, don't get me wrong, we're doing good and all," Ginny assured me. "And I really do like Dean. He's nice to me, nice to look at, and I think he really cares for me, and he's a good kisser! But…"

"You don't like him the way you like Harry?" I finished. Immediately, Ginny's eyes, wide with surprise, shot up to meet mine, proving to me that I was right.

"What? I… no. Hermione, I don't feel that way about Harry anymore," Ginny insisted, not sounding very sure of herself as her face earned a red tint.

"Then why don't you think you'll stay with Dean?" I inquired, wishing my friend would admit this to herself.

"I… I just do!" Ginny exclaimed, tone portraying some frustration now. "He's just not… Not my everything. But that doesn't mean I'm holding out for Harry, Hermione! I'm over him, I've been over him for a long time. I don't even think about him like…"

As the red-head's voice broke, gaze getting lost somewhere beyond my shoulder, I smiled sadly at my friend.

"You don't need to convince me, Gin," I told her gently. Unspoken was my opinion that she probably needed to convince herself.

"Just… please don't bring that up, Hermione. You don't know what you're talking about anyway," Ginny grumbled, hugging her pillow close to her chest.

Suddenly, the face I had spent the past week trying to forget flashed before my eyes. The pointed chin, peroxide blond hair, and cloudy grey eyes seemed so real, I almost wanted to reach out and stroke his pale cheek. Almost, but not quite. I had to forget about him, about what had happened. Nevertheless, I knew that I understood what Ginny felt trying to suppress an attraction and even feelings towards someone out of reach.

Except not really. Surely Ginny's feelings towards Harry ran a lot deeper than my own towards a certain Slytherin idiot. Harry and Ginny were true friends, with a relationship based on years of kindness and smiles. My temporary and foolish infatuation with Dra—Malfoy was overshadowed by years of enmity and cruelty. Yes, my… _thing_ with Draco was just that, just an infatuation. Just a random, ultimately meaningless fling I uncharacteristically jumped into after seeing him playful with Eric and upset over his mum and honestly gentle towards me…

"Have you had your eye on anyone lately?" the red-head asked, plastering a fake grin on her face in an effort to quickly switch the subject. With Draco (I meant, _Malfoy. _Malfoy, Malfoy, Malfoy.) already present in my mind as she spoke, the connection drew immediately, bringing a harsh blush to my cheeks.

"What? No," I responded hurriedly, avoiding her eyes.

"Oh! So there is someone!" Ginny exclaimed, her smile genuinely amused now.

"No, there isn't," I rebutted, shaking my head at her. "I just said there wasn't!"

"But you said it too quickly. And you turned red," Ginny pointed out, eyes twinkling with mirth. "C'mon, Hermione. You can tell me."

"There's nothing to tell," I told her calmly, taking in a few deep breaths. As long as I acted in control, maybe I could convince her. Shoddy liar I was, I really didn't want to revert to flat-out lies.

"Is it someone I know?" Ginny asked, finding way too much entertainment in my unease. "Or maybe it's some Muggle Mystery Man you met over the summer."

"There's no _Muggle Mystery Man!_" I insisted shrilly, all calmness fleeing from the vicinity as the pink flush returned to my face.

"So it _is_ a Muggle Mystery Man!" Ginny deducted. "Thank Merlin. I've thought for the longest time you were going to pursue that brother of mine."

"I… there's no Muggle Mystery Man," I repeated, not as loudly this time but with an even redder face, I'm sure. My skin felt like it was burning. "And I don't _pursue_ anyone!"

"Fine, fine. Pursue was a bad word choice on my part," Ginny admitted. "But you can't get on my case for merely pointing out the way you've acted towards Ron since forever."

"I… I have not," I responded proudly, knowing on some level that I was downright lying. For a while, I had these unexplainable feelings for my ginger-haired best friend. They really didn't make sense, since we bickered over little things and he was disgusting and had no manners and didn't care about schoolwork, but that's why they were unexplainable. Even just a few months ago, I could have foolishly mistaken them for love, I suppose, but after considering the speed at which my daydreams of a certain redhead were replaced with those starring a certain blond, I knew I couldn't have that strong of feelings towards Ron.

Still, I could not deny my attraction to him and the fact that I used to… well, fancy him. Ginny knew likewise and starting laughing heartily.

"You so have," she argued, bringing a pout to my face. "The two of you have been skirting around each other for years."

"It has not been that long," I retorted, rolling my eyes. Back in our first year, I could barely stand him. And that was only five years ago! Not even!

"Whatever," Ginny dismissed, waving her hand. "Tell me about your Muggle Mystery Man!"

"Ginny!" I scolded.

"Did you meet him through… what's your Muggle friend's name again?" she asked, eyebrows meeting in confusion as she tried to think.

"Emily," I filled in automatically. "But I'm telling you, there's no Muggle Mystery Man."

Though… technically, I did meet someone, and it was through Emily. But I was pretty sure that Malfoy wouldn't appreciate being called a Muggle, and my red-headed friend actually did know him, so he wasn't a mystery. I kind of had to admit he was a man. Boy. Man-boy? Well, male, anyway.

"You didn't meet anybody over the past few weeks?" she questioned, dropping her shoulders with an exaggerated sigh. "Way to be boring, Hermione."

The idea popped into my brain that if Ginny knew about Dr—Malfoy, she would definitely not categorize those past few weeks of my life as boring.

"No, I met some new friends," I informed her, not liking lying to my friend. I could half-lie, half-tell the truth. Did it count as telling the truth if you were still partially lying? "Emily introduced me to her boyfriend, Eric—"

"Joy," Ginny commented drily. "You got to be the third wheel all summer long."

"It wasn't that bad," I insisted, remembering how Emily and Eric had specifically not wanted Draco and I to feel that way about them being a couple and hidden their relationship for a while.

"Now you know how Harry must feel with you and Ron around!" Ginny exclaimed teasingly, eyes bright with mischief.

"Oh, lay off!" I demanded lightly, thumping her in the head with my pillow. Immediately she retaliated, leading to an impromptu pillow fight full of squealing and laughter.

Just like Ginny wrote in her letter, life at the Burrow was busy, but lonely. Although I would have classified Ginny as one of my closer female friends – especially those exclusively from the wizarding world – I found myself growing even closer to the redhead when we were each other's only steady companions. That were girls. That were our age and not either of our mothers. Occasionally Tonks would drop by, but she seemed depressed all the time. Her hair was uncharacteristically a dull brown and long enough to flow drearily around her body when she moved. Watching her made me want to sigh.

Other than Tonks, very few women visited the Weasley home and stayed for longer than a quick report. Sometimes a few members of the Order would stay for dinner, but the faces most frequently seen around the table were all male.

And Fleur did not count.

In fact, she was probably the topic over which Ginny and I bonded the most. Even Mrs. Weasley would grumble about her future daughter-in-law. Ron, of course, adored having Fleur around, a fact which bothered both Ginny and myself more than I would care to admit.

Nevertheless, it was pleasant to have such a friendship with Ginny. At Hogwarts, I spent most of my time with my studies or with Harry and Ron. I hardly ever even saw the other girls my year, including those in the Gryffindor House. Unfortuantely for me, my very first year saw the pairing off of the other four classmates I shared my dormitory with. Lavender and Parvati were much too girlie for my taste, obsessing about make-up and school drama and talking about boys for hours upon hours; Janelle and Sophia were good friends with some boy from Ravenclaw and spent most of their time who-knows-where with him and… Lisa Turpin, I believe. Although I would sometimes talk with them, we weren't exactly good friends. But they were always willing to listen, even though I often didn't want to spill my innermost thoughts and feelings to a couple of girls I didn't know all too well. I won't deny the fact that it did happen a number of times, mostly about my frustrations with either of the boys. In return, they would share with me the drama among their group of four.

But those spontaneous discussions didn't develop into strong friendships, so I enjoyed bonding with Ginny over the summer. Ron and I also spent a lot of time together in the past week, but I was still slightly annoyed by his obsession with Fleur. Nevertheless, I supposed that was part of what made him Ron, one of my closest friends whom I cared for very much.

However, after my late night chat with Ginny, I became a bit more nervous around my ginger giant of a friend. Perhaps it was the fact that I knew I had fancied Ron previously and was – on some level at least – still a bit attracted to him that had me worried. What if Ron thought I still liked him like that? I would always toss aside that thought though, remembering that Ron never seemed to understand that I ever liked him like that. Thick dunce.

Still, I skirted around him for a couple of days, not wanting to unintentionally show too much affection of the wrong sort. Ginny's winks and suggestive eyebrow-raising certainly did not help me calm down. Harry's arrival, I hoped, would even things out again. With Harry present, the four of us could just be a group of friends, like usual. I only had to wait a few more days. A few more days, and I would have peace.

Unless…Unless Harry and Ginny started acting all couple-y, which would lead to extreme badness. With those two paired off, Ron and I would also, automatically, be stuck in a pair. What I didn't want was a repeat of the Eric/Emily and Draco/me situation. As much fun as I had, I had no desire whatsoever to get involved with Ron. Not now. Not with my emotions all jumbled. And definitely not with dreams of Dr—Malfoy featuring every night.

For the first time in my entire life, I thanked Merlin for Dean Thomas.


	30. Of Greek Myths and Could've Beens

**A/N: Sorry for the long wait everyone! Summer classes, being a counselor at a week-long camp, a family reunion, helping my grandparents with a wedding reception, and having my cousins over at my house this past week really had me busy! And I kind of got sidetracked by my latest oneshot about Neville. Since it's so freaking long (like 11,000 words! o.O), writing it used up any of the spare time I had. But now I am back! With a new chapter from Draco to learn more about what happened to his mum. Hope you enjoy it!**

When I woke up the next morning, my head felt heavy and clouded. I couldn't remember the last time I had slept in my clothes, and I knew why: in the morning, it felt awful. Sleeping with shoes and socks on was probably the worst part; my feet felt like they were slick with sweat and suffocating.

For a long while, I laid completely unmoving, eyes open and staring at the slight bump of blanket beneath me. Even my mind was still. Blank. Empty. No, full. Crammed full from the night before, from the revelations and the stories and the shock.

What were we going to do now?

That thought slipped into my dreary brain, but I ignored it for a long while, letting the eyelids that had somehow become heavy all over again slip shut for a restful moment. Then I slowly swung my legs around to the side of the bed, letting my feet fall to the floor as I lifted my body with my arms, groaning at the effort as if I was an elderly invalid rather than a relatively fit young man. After roughly rubbing my eyes, I dragged a hand through my hair as I stood up, letting my palm remain at the back of my neck as I exited the small room.

"Mum?" I called hoarsely, my voice sounding foreign to my own ears, especially since it was the only noise I heard. Making my way into the main room, the sight of my sleeping mother sparked a deep sigh to escape my lungs. Wandering into the tiny kitchen, I mindlessly yanked open the refrigerator I had ignored the previous night, a bit surprised to discover actual food stored inside. Did someone regularly visit this place? Did my _mother_ regularly visit this place? Why else would her journal be in the drawer of a recently used bedroom? Why else would such a little cottage be supplied with food and have the Muggle power working? If there was one thing I knew about this place, it was that there would be little to no magic around; my mother's behavior while we were traveling here told me that much. But other than that, I simply had more questions.

With the slightest bit of frustration, a sigh of exhaustion blew from between my lips, despite the fact I had just woken up. Not feeling hungry, I closed the refrigerator and collapsed into one of the wooden chairs around the small table, cradling my chin in my hands. I stared down at the grain of the wood, tracing the curves with my eyes, wondering what a certain frizzy-haired know-it-all was doing. Would I ever see her again? Could I ever explain everything? What would happen if I could, if I did? Would she take me back? Merlin, I hoped so. But how could I when I didn't even know what was going on, when I would return to English soil, or what would be different once that finally happened. Because things _would _be different; that I was sure of.

"Draco?" the sleep voice of my mother called from where she stood in the doorway, messy hair and gloomy eyes revealing how well she slept.

"Morning, mum," I greeted wearily in response.

"Have you eaten?" she inquired motherly as she drudged to the counter. I considered lying to avoid a forced meal, but I couldn't muster up the effort.

"Not yet," I admitted. "I'm not very hungry."

"Perhaps just some toast then," she replied softly, pulling out a strange looking metal box and a loaf of bread wrapped in plastic. Knowing it would be worthless to argue (I was lucky she was letting me get away with just toast), I said nothing as she put two slices of bread in the holes of the metal box and pushed down a little lever on the side. Neither of us spoke as she retrieved some butter and jam from the fridge and a knife from a drawer. Obviously, she knew her way around the kitchen. Obviously, she spent more time here than those couple of months thirteen years ago.

"Mum?" I called gently as the toasted bread popped up from inside the metal device.

"Hm?" she answered in response, turning her back towards me to butter the toast.

"What are we doing here?" I asked solemnly, wishing she would turn around and look at me. As it was, she didn't even respond for what seemed like the longest time, freezing completely still. Then, after a while, she started working on the toast again.

"What do you mean?" she responded slowly, taking more time than usual to butter a few pieces of bread.

"Why are we here, in this cabin?" I explained. "What did you hope to accomplish by coming here? What are we supposed to do?"

"Well…" she began. Finally, she turned around, eyes fixated on the toast in either hand. "When I found out, I just… I had to check on her."

"So we're going to see her?" I questioned, sitting up straight. "My sister?"

As soon as that word slipped from my lips, my mother's eyes shot up to meet mine. A mix of emotions tumbled within them, but it was the slight disgust that placed a sour taste in my own mouth. How could she still be so revolted by her own child? Then the look faded into one of longing and regret. She opened her mouth, but hesitated again for a second.

"Yes," she affirmed with a wave of confidence, placing my toast in front of me. "We'll see her."

Still in a bit of shock at the entire situation, I leaned back in my chair and tried to let it all soak in. I had a sister, and I was going to see her. I wondered what she was like. What did she like to do? What was her favorite color? How did she spend her time? Maybe my mother could answer my questions.

"How long has it been since you last saw her?" I asked, thinking about the journal in the bedroom that had definitely seen occupancy recently.

"I… A few months," my mother admitted, breaking off a small segment of toast.

"How often do you visit?" I asked quietly, staring down at my toast. How could I be so ignorant to miss the absence of my mother?

"I always made sure to check on her at least once a month, just to make sure she was safe. I placed protective wards around her, of course, and a locator charm on her as a baby to guarantee I could find her, but I just wanted to be _sure_. For a while, I was afraid…" My mother's voice trailed off, eyes glazing over a bit. Then she blinked once, twice, and returned to answering my question. "But since you've been off to school, I've visited more frequently," she reported, tone revealing a touch of guilt. "I just wanted to see her, to she how she had grown up."

"What's she like?" I wondered aloud.

"She's…" I watched as a small smile snuck onto my mother's face. Then, with a quick shake of her head, the smile disappeared. "She's a normal girl. Rather attractive in her own way. She's very gentle and kind, very obedient to her adoptive parents."

"To you talk to her often?" I asked, creating an image in my mind of the unfamiliar girl. Unexpectedly, my mother shot me a questioning look, as if I was an idiot or something.

"I do not _speak_ with her, Dra—son," she reported in a tone that told me how obvious she thought that should have been to me.

"Why not? She's your daughter," I pointed out. Then an idea flitted across my brain. "Does she know that?" My mother's eyes veered to the side, fingers tearing at her toast again. "Does she know that you're her mother?"

"Of course not," she answered softly. "She only knows that she was adopted."

Unable to speak, I tried to understand the situation I found myself stuck in. How did this happen? First I find out my mother was raped. Then I found out that she got pregnant. Then that she gave up the baby. Then that my father didn't know that she didn't kill the girl like he told her to. Then that she's been coming to check on her regularly. Then that she's never even spoken to her. My sister didn't even know I existed.

I supposed that made us even.

"Does she… does she know she's a witch?" I asked, not wanting to voice the question I really meant behind those words: Did she go to Hogwarts? Had I seen her without knowing she shared blood? I tried to figure out how old she would be now. Twelve? Thirteen? Had she gone to school for two years now?

Raising a piece of toast to her mouth, my mother nodded. "She attends Beauxbatons."

"How did you visit her then?" I asked, recalling that she had stated that she saw my sister frequently.

"I…" To my surprise, my mother seemed to almost… squeamish. "I have some connections at the academy."

"Oh." Not knowing what else to say on that subject (since my mother obviously didn't want to share that information and I certainly didn't want to pry), I racked my brain for another question that had kept me up last night. There had been so many then, but my brain seemed completely fogged over now that I wanted to remember. Then I glanced up at my mother's face, filled with pain and regret.

"Mum," I uttered, closing my eyes and quietly sighing. "I'm so sorry."

"For what?" she replied gently, expression collapsing into one of devastation. "Honey, you have nothing to be sorry for. It wasn't your fault. None of it was your fault."

Suddenly I found myself flashing back to last night, then to the day that I had discovered my frail mother in our own home, pale and broken. Without my permission, a wetness formed at the corners of my eyes, annoyingly causing my eyelashes there to stick together.

"I know," I lied to reassure her. Inside, I kept wondering if I could have ever changed anything, if I could have somehow stopped my mother from shattering. Too late for that.

"Besides, what's done is done," she said in a strong voice that wavered only a little bit. "We have to move on and get back to our lives."

The irony at my mother saying those words while I could see how broken she was about something that happened over a dozen years ago struck me immediately. Nevertheless, I didn't want to mention it and start again with the emotions and the arguing.

"So what are we going to do?" I inquired, latching onto the plan of moving on.

"We'll… we'll check on Pavo tonight. I'll put some stronger wards around her, then we'll return here. Hopefully we'll be able to stay here until September, until you can go back to school. The castle will be safe. Luc—your father won't be able to go there. By then, perhaps he will calm down and be reasonable."

"I doubt it," I retorted. "Where will you go when I go to Hogwarts? You can't hide from him forever."

"Maybe not," she responded slowly, staring at her empty plate. Although I had not realized she had eaten her toast, I was grateful that she had eaten something. "But I don't need to hide for forever. Eventually, if he does not calm down, he will be recaptured."

"Mum!" I gasped, shocked to hear those words from her lips. Did she really _want _him to be recaptured? Did… did I? My father's hatred for Muggleborns was only surpassed by his hatred for Muggles. I was _in love _with a Muggleborn. I knew he would never approve, but I had thought he was out of the picture. Now that he was roaming around, free to find and hurt whomever he wanted… I didn't want him to hurt her. Or her parents. I wanted for him to never be able to touch her. I wanted him in Azkaban.

Slipping my eyes closed, I struggled to deal with the weight of wishing my father was imprisoned. _My father_.

"Eat your toast," my mother prodded quietly. Still in my self-imposed darkness, I nodded once to acknowledge her and sat completely still as she slowly scooted back in her chair and left the room.

Time wasn't exactly measureable in the cabin, but it must have been a long time before I entered the other room again after stuffing cold toast into a random drawer to be disposed of later.

"Pavo, you said?" I asked, remembering the name my mother had called my sister, the one written on the back of that picture I had found.

"After the constellation," my mother replied calmly. "According the Greek myth, the goddess Hera found out that her husband, the great Zeus, was cheating on her, so she sent a beast with one hundred eyes to stand guard over the woman involved. In turn, Zeus sent Hermes to kill the beast. I don't recall what happened with the woman, but Hera then put all of the eyes of her fallen servant on her sacred bird: the peacock. It wasn't until long after the fall of the Greek empire, however, that the peacock tail was declared a constellation."

"A peacock?" I asked in surprise, thinking about the albino peacocks we had at home, wandering around the grounds. I had always assumed that the prestigious and proud birds had lived at Malfoy Manor for generations, but maybe… maybe not.

"Mhmm," my mother answered simply. Then a far-away shine entered her eyes, and she spoke again. "I always thought it was a beautiful name. I loved the stars. As a child, I envied my sister for being named after a constellation. I used to lie on my floor with my little book of constellations and debate which would make the best names for my own children," she recalled with a small smile on her face. "Draco and Scorpius for boys; Pavo and Cassiopeia for girls."

"But… You wanted four children?" I asked, a little taken back. When my mother's smile saddened, I belatedly realized the subject was intimately tied with the existence of my half-sister.

"I did," she affirmed softly, the skin around her eyes creasing with grief. "Your father did, too. Unfortunately, due to some… complications during Pavo's birth, I could never carry a child again. Your father… he never forgave me for that. He blamed that man for… And the baby, for existing, I suppose. And then me, for taking the baby to term."

Biting my lip, I didn't know what to say in response. As a boy, I didn't know how much children meant to parents, but from the expression on my mother's face, I realized that I didn't have the slightest inkling how much this affected her.

"That's one of the reasons why afterwards I just couldn't..." My mother paused, swallowing so loudly I could hear the movement. "I couldn't kill my baby girl. Not my only baby darling girl."

Silence settled throughout the room, both my mother and I occupied by our own thoughts. As it was, I couldn't even imagine life with one younger sister, much less three siblings. I never knew that my mother wanted more children, and I never would have guessed that my father wanted more as well. He must have been a different man back then. Perhaps this… this horrible rape and its aftermath changed my parents more than they even knew. I was just beginning to realize it myself.


	31. Of Surprise Parties and Love Discussions

**A/N: Ah, I'm so sorry, everyone! My life is crazy. Let's just leave it at that. Everything I'll be posting today has been written this past week. I'm trying so hard to return to my normal pace of writing, hoping that it'll help some issues with the rest of my life. I just hope you guys can forgive me.**

**Anyway, here's the next chapter! It's a long time coming, but maybe the content will partially make up for that. ;) And please, tell me what you think!**

Everyone was looking forward to Harry's arrival. Although none of us had expected him to come in the middle of the night, it sure was wonderful to be reunited with my other best friend. With everything he had to tell us about Dumbledore and our new teacher this year and the prophecy and O.W.L.s, I quickly and effectively pushed all of those troubling thoughts about boys and feelings and certain feelings towards certain boys out of my mind. Although not everything we discussed with Harry was happy or cause for celebration, the pressure on my skull seemed to lessen a bit with his presence. It felt so nice to be with my two best friends again.

"It was good to see Harry again, wasn't it?" I remarked later that day, curious eyes watching Ginny for a reaction. On my back as I was, I had to tilt my head back to look at her where she sat, upside down in my view. As I anticipated, her vocal response told a different answer than the one revealed by the softening of her eyes and gentle weaving of her hands into her red hair.

"Of course," she replied casually, voice betraying next to nothing. "He's grown even more since June."

"That's a teenage boy for you," I said lightly, smiling. My ginger friend laughed for a moment before lying down on her stomach, bunching up her pillow to prop up her chin. To compensate, I rolled over to face her properly.

"Did you see how much he and Ron both ate during dinner?" Ginny asked with eyes that were shining with mirth.

"I'm surprised your poor mother hasn't been eaten out of house and home yet!" I replied, grinning widely as I shook my head.

"At least Harry has some form of manners," Ginny grumbled with a roll of her eyes. "I swear, that brother of mine…"

"Oh, you don't need to be telling me about his lack of anything resembling manners," I reminded her, thinking about the redhead's rather disgusting displays in the past. "I unfortunately have first hand experience with them."

"And it's gotten worse with Phlegm here!" Ginny exclaimed. "He already had enough food spewing from his mouth on a normal basis as he talks, but whenever he gapes at her, it all spills out like chunky drool."

"That's gross, Gin!" I exclaimed, wrinkling my nose in disgust just thinking about it.

"But sadly true," she replied, sighing dramatically.

"Poor you, having such a horrific brother," I remarked teasingly.

"Yes, poor me," she agreed with a fake frown that quickly dissolved into a smile as she broke into laughter. I joined her, turning to lie more comfortably on my side. An easy silence drifted down and fell between us for a moment, allowing my brain to divulge and think thoughts which I had forbidden.

_His laugh. His smile. The way his hair fell in front of his eyes…_

"I have missed him a bit, I suppose," a soft voice admitted. It took me half a second to realize it was Ginny that had spoken, and another half a second to realize it was Harry she was talking about.

"Hm?" I responded, mind only half concentrated on the conversation. Oh, yes. Harry. Ginny missing him.

"Harry," she explained, rolling onto her back to stare at the ceiling. "It'll be nice to be able to not have to wait for Fred and George to visit to play Quidditch."

"Oh, you're as bad as those boys!" I exclaimed loudly, rotating my head to glare at my friend half-heartedly. "If they had liquid Quidditch, I'd have a bunch of junkies who spent all their time shooting up for friends."

"If it were a liquid, I'd have it running through my veins," Ginny agreed with a broad grin, tilting her head so I could see it.

"Do you suppose Harry will be Captain again this year?" I questioned.

"Of course," Ginny answered immediately, as if the question never really was a question at all. The ends of my lips curled into a soft smile. Then I frowned. No. Why was I pushing Ginny about her feelings towards Harry? I already decided that I didn't _want _Ginny and Harry to get together.

Except… I kind of did. All the little things – the way she acted around him, that small smile on her face when she thought about him, the look in her eyes when she talked about him – sparked that part of me that believed in love and wanted my friend to find it. That part of me was convinced that Ginny would be happier if she was with Harry, if she was with the one she loved. Everyone deserved to be with the one they loved.

_Even…_

No. _No_. Those types of thoughts were dangerous.

"Hermione? Are you okay?" Ginny asked, staring at me with a touch of concern in her eyes. Shaking myself out of the daze I had pulled myself into, I told her I was fine.

"Where'd you go?" she inquired, sending me a strange smile and accompanying glance.

"Just drifted off for a second," I replied offhandedly.

"I saw that," she remarked with an amused grin. "You're not one to do that often."

"Yeah, but I'm still human," I responded with a forced grin. Ginny's eyes laughed while she faked a gasp.

"Hermione Granger? _Human?_" she exclaimed, dramatically bringing her hand to cover her mouth. I laughed despite myself and swatted at her hand.

"Oh, lay off!" I told her with a smile. She smiled back and we continued to chat about a couple of mundane subjects for a little while longer before we fell asleep.

In an effort to raise spirits, Mrs. Weasley planned a festive celebration for Harry's birthday. With all the gloom and doom of dreadful news streaming in every hour of every day, everyone could use a bit of cheering up. Practically every face in the house passed through with a frown and weary eyes.

On top of everything else from the summer, each deliverance of bad news felt like another blow to my ever dwindling supply of hope. I knew it was foolish, but during those times that I felt like everything was a giant mess that could never be sorted out. All these depressing feelings scared me, so I decided to force them away by keeping busy. The easiest way to accomplish this was to offer to help Mrs. Weasley with the party.

For a solid week, plans were made, decorations debated, presents planned, food bought. Ginny and I went on multiple trips into town during the afternoons, prepared countless platters of food in the middle of the night, wrapped presents in colorful paper even later in the night, and debated on a way to get Harry out of the house for a couple of hours so we could decorate. It was meant to be a surprise party, but I think that Harry had his suspicions.

Eventually it was decided that Fred and George would be employed with conveniently coming over a few hours before the party to distract Ron and Harry with a game of Quidditch out in the back. As soon as the four boys were out of hearing range with their broomstick in tow, Molly retrieved the bags bursting full of decorations and assigned Ginny and I to put them all around the house by hand while she finished cooking.

One more month, I told myself as I climbed to the top of the rickety, old ladder Ginny had dragged out of nowhere. One more month, and I would be able to legally do magic outside of school. Suddenly Fleur appeared, inquiring what we were doing. When Ginny told her about the party for Harry, she immediately offered to 'help'. Loving friend that she is, Ginny told Fleur to help me with the decorations so she could assist her mum in the kitchen. I glared at her retreating back.

Although not quite what I would call enjoyable, the decorating job went by faster with Fleur helping. Still, I resented the fact that all she had to do was stand around and wave a wand while I nearly fell to my death stretching as far as I could on the very top of that wooden ladder.

In the end, however, it was worth it. Harry's face, brighter than I'd seen it in a long while, broke into a grin. Many members of the Order were present, including Mad-Eye and Tonks. Despite her gloomy disposition, the once fun-loving girl managed a smile when she hugged Harry and wished him a happy birthday, eve though the smile didn't reach her eyes. Once again, I found myself wondering why she was so depressed. Was it really just Sirius' death, like I had suggested to the others? Sometimes I was so sure that I was right, but at other times, there was this look in Tonks' eyes that did not fit in with my mourning and guilt theory. There was something else wrong.

Other than Tonks, everyone seemed to be happy until Lupin arrived an hour late with sour news. Discussions of dementor attacks and missing persons swept through the group, dampening the mood swifter than a sudden rainstorm.

A little while later, when everyone had spread out and quieted a bit, I noticed Tonks sitting over on the couch by herself. I followed her solemn gaze to the group by the stairs. Why was she looking at Mad-Eye, Lupin, and Bill? When I turned my attention back to her, I noticed that she was staring at her hands in her lap. Biting my lip nervously, I went over and sat down next to her.

"Hey," I offered gently. She lifted her head ever so slightly and tried to force a smile, but didn't really manage it.

"Hey, Hermione," she mumbled back. "Shouldn't you be celebrating?"

"Shouldn't you?" I retorted softly, directing my eyes towards hers as they shot up to look at me.

"I… I'm not feeling too well, that's all," she replied. Thinking about the depressing thoughts running through my own brain lately, I nodded to myself.

"I understand," I responded. Her head tilted slightly, eyes showing the tiniest bit of curiosity.

"What's the matter?" she asked, a touch of concern in her tone.

"I…" I bit my lip, not sure what to say. Sending a quick glance around the room, I looked back at Tonks and sighed, lifting my hand to push my hair behind my ear. "I don't know."

Understanding somehow that I didn't want to talk about it, she raised a comforting hand to my shoulder. I struggled to keep from foolishly crying, not even knowing why the tears had threatened at such an unexpected and unwarranted time, and looked over at where the twins, Ron, and Ginny were shoving plates of cake towards Harry's face. A bit of frosting coated his hair and the group started laughing. Ginny reached forward to wipe the green mess away, but only ended up smearing it all over his forehead. As Harry blushed lightly, I looked away.

"Do you understand why people do the things they do?" I asked quietly. Then I realized that didn't make any sense.

"What?" Tonks replied, wrinkling her nose in confusion.

"I mean, why do people do one thing when they really want to do another?" I rephrased, thinking about Ginny and Harry and how Ginny was dating Dean.

"You mean like dating one boy when you still have feelings for another?" Tonks asked, catching on that I was talking about Ginny and Harry. A dark cloud covered her eyes and she grinned sarcastically. "That has to do with love. I don't know anything about that."

"You really think that Ginny _loves _Harry?" I inquired, surprised.

"Oh, I don't know about that," she responded. "I just meant that it has to do with relationships, and I'm not exactly the best person to go to about that."

"Well, you are a girl," I retorted with a grin. "You must know something about love."

That newly familiar sadness settled into her eyes again, and I could have sworn that her gaze quickly directed towards that group by the stairs again for a split second.

"Everyone knows a little about love," Tonks answered softly.

"I don't," I mumbled, thinking about how confused I was when… when I was told that someone loved me. "I don't even know what it means."

"Well, that's not exactly something you can study in a book, now is it?" Tonks teased gently. I smiled sadly at her, and it seemed at that moment like we connected. Somehow, we suddenly understood that we were both going through some type of emotion that matched completely.

But I was thinking about Dra—Malfoy. And his, our, that messy _relationship _thing. Did someone claim to love her? Or perhaps she was the one 'in love' in her situation. Either way, maybe she could understand. Maybe she could explain.

"What is love?" I asked suddenly, shaking my head a couple of times. "What does someone mean when they say they love you?"

"You mean a family member? A friend?" Tonks asked. Looking sheepishly up at her, I shook my head once. "You mean romantically?"

Biting my lip, I looked away and said nothing. It was embarrassing actually, to talk about romantic love. I was a teenager. It was silly. Foolish. Studying my hands as I was, I wouldn't have noticed the soft blush on Tonks' cheeks if I hadn't glanced over at her quickly. Why was she blushing, I wondered?

"Loving someone," she began softly, "means that you care about them more than anything else in the entire world. Bad things could happen, the world itself could practically end, but after a while you would be okay if they were still with you."

As Tonks spoke, the words seemed to seep into my ears, wind through my brain, and then follow my veins back to my heart. I wanted to feel that, that feeling she was describing.

"You would do anything for them, _anything_," she continued, using that same reverent tone of voice. "You want to protect them, be with them, experience life by their side. You would fight for them, die for them, but even more than that, you'd _live _for them."

Suddenly I sat up a bit straighter. I'd heard some of these things before, listened to similar expressions in songs or read them in poems. Everyone seemed obsessed with dying for someone they loved. But _living _for them… what did that mean? Changing everything about you, changing the way you lived life just to be with someone else? Just to incorporate them into your life? All because you loved them?

_I don't care if they know! I'll tell them tomorrow! Right now!_

Shaking my head, I cast away the memory, wiping at my eyes as I returned my attention to Tonks. Looking over at her, I tilted my head to the side and studied her face. Tears bundled right below her tightly closed eyes. When she opened them her gaze focused on that group again, and suddenly I knew.

Tonks was in love.

"When you love someone, they're your everything," she whispered softly. "It doesn't matter if they're rich or poor, if they're pretty or scarred, if they're young or old, if they know dangerous people or have dangerous jobs or could die tomorrow. You _love _them, and if they love you back, nothing else has to matter. Not really. Not in the long end. Especially not during this war, when everything else is a question."

_If they love you back, nothing else has to matter. If they love you back, nothing else has to matter. Not really. Not really._

Those words echoed through my head, and I couldn't cast away the face it recalled, the face of Draco as he pleaded with me to believe him when he said he loved me.

_It's not difficult, Hermione! That's what I'm trying to tell you!_

_Love… for me, it's that feeling I get whenever your dad holds me in his arms, or when he catches my eye in a room full of people, or when he just smiles at me like he's the happiest person in the world. _

I missed the feelings of lying in his arms, I missed the glances we once shared, I missed his smile.

I wanted him back.

Before I had been able to keep the tears back, but suddenly they were streaming so fast I couldn't even see, and everything was clouded. I gasped once for breath as my eyes shot open wide.

"Hermione? Are you okay?" Tonks asked, turning sideways to face me.

"I think… I think I might love him," I whispered, slightly horrified. Sympathy washed over Tonks' face as she reached over and wrapped an arm around me. Soothing humming whispered over my ears as I clung to Tonks desperately. After wiping away the tears, I still felt like I was crying inside as my thoughts drifted every which way.

I didn't even remember falling asleep.


	32. Of Unexpected Visitors and Sharing Blood

**Disclaimer: All I own are the thoughts in my head. JKR owns Harry Potter. Sucks for me; I'm the one with the rotten side of the deal. **

**A/N: Ah! Life is crazy. Good news: I'm doing well in my classes. Bad news: they take up tons of time. Good news: I have tons of ideas to write about, including this new Dramione that I'm super excited about. Bad news: It's been distracting me from this piece. **

**A huge thank you to all of my readers and reviewers! I wish I could personally thank each and every one of you and chat about your lives and everything and we could all be the best of friends, but I probably will have to stick with a huge THANK YOU for most of you. **

**And on the chapter: I really don't want to be cliché with this Draco-has-a-sister thing and want to portray Pavo as realistically as possible; please feel free to critique her behavior! I love hearing what you guys think about what I write!**

After learning details about my parents that I never expected, my mother and I sat in silence for a while. Silence, it seemed, was the one companion I could count on in this cottage. As for my mother, well, she laid down on the couch with her hands folded under her cheek, eyes staring straight forward. She stayed like that for hours, never slipping into sleep, never moving to suggest she was actually awake. Only the soft sound of her slow breathing assured me that she was still alive.

Just like my mother, I was waiting for the evening to settle. When the sun just disappeared behind the horizon, she had promised we would visit my sister. Not knowing what to expect, I tried to prepare myself for it. What would I say? What would she say? Thoughts plagued my mind until my head ached with their weight.

I didn't even remember falling asleep.

But when I woke up, blinking rapidly until I figured out where I was, the afternoon had melted away. Looking outside the window, a surge of anticipation ran through me at the sight of the darkness.

"Mum," I whispered, laying a hand on her shoulder. Although her eyes were still open, it took a moment before they focused on me. Even then, only after another few seconds did she speak.

"What is it?" she murmured.

"Can we go visit Pavo now?" I asked quietly.

"Oh, yeah, sure," she answered, sitting up with a bit of effort.

"Where is she?" I questioned, wringing my hands nervously.

"She lives with her adoptive family nearby," my mother answered, wiping a finger beneath each eye a couple of times. Sighing, she ran her hands through her hair to smooth out the knots and bumps. Standing up, she fixed her clothing (why did it take me so long to notice that my other was wearing Muggle clothing? Had she been wearing it this whole time?) before heading for the door.

"All right, Draco, let's get going," she said in a shaky voice, not sounding half as confident as I'm sure she wanted to. Lightly licking my dry lips, I nodded twice as I walked towards her. As we exited the building, my brain noted how my mother had used my given name again. Hadn't she told me that names could be traced? Maybe we couldn't be found here. Maybe there was some sort of magical ward… like the one surrounding my sister.

"This way," my mother instructed, heading down a dirt path. Silence followed us from the cottage, accompanying us on our trip. After a relatively short walk, a small house came into view. Instinctively, my critical eyes narrowed, nose wrinkling at the inferiority of the structure. Then, a bit ashamed of myself, I cleared my throat and turned my gaze to the world, willing my face _not _to turn red.

Abruptly, I stopped, just barely avoiding ramming into my mother, who had frozen on the spot.

"What is it?" I inquired anxiously, swiftly glancing around to see if she had detected some sort of danger I hadn't yet noticed. When she didn't respond after a few seconds, I waked forward to face her, only to find her eyes closed.

"I… I can't do it," she whispered, an expression of despair sending her mouth into a distressed frown. She opened her eyes as she raised her head to the sky, lifting a hand to cover her mouth as a broken sigh shuttered from her lips. "I… I'm sorry, I just can't."

My first instinct was to protest, insist that she come with me to see my sister, but then rationality spoke in my brain; I couldn't force this upon my mother.

"Is it okay with you if I still go?" I asked gently, hoping that she'd say yes. To my relief, she nodded once. "I think I can find my way back when I'm done. I won't stay long."

"All right," she responded, nodding a few more times. "I'll be waiting."

Silently, I waited until she had disappeared along the path back to the cottage before I continued my approach towards the small house where my sister lived. With each step, the anticipation bubbling within me grew. To distract myself, I kept my attention on the ground, watching as my feet moved further and further forward.

_In a few minutes, I'll see my sister_

_My sister._

_I have a sister._

_She lives here._

_She doesn't know me._

_In a few minutes, I'll see my sister for the first time._

Pausing, I glanced up, studying the little house with its worn walls and cracked paint. Closing my eyes, I took in a deep breath, releasing it slowly as I debated what to do. Should I just knock on the door and ask for Pavo? What if her adoptive parents answered? Should I sneak into the house and try and find her myself? No, then everyone in the house would freak out and think I was some sort of monster or something.

Knocking on the door it is, then.

Nodding once to myself, I forced my feet to move again and didn't dare stop them until I reached the door. Instantly, my hand shot up in a fist, but it froze a few centimeters from the wood. Tilting my head up as if that would help my nerves slide back down into my brain, I swallowed the musty air and hoped the rock in my throat would go away before I was required to speak.

_One, two, three_.

After knocking, I immediately shoved both of my hands behind my back, waiting anxiously for someone to answer the call. When I heard footsteps approach, I almost ran away, but my feet were stuck to the ground beneath them as if by magic. Hands swiftly released a lock, and then the door cracked open. Through the sliver, I could see dark brown hair, one green eye, and a nose not nearly as pale as my own. The short length of the hair and small size of the person told me this wasn't my sister.

"Hello," I said to the little boy, waiting for him to do something. Instead, he just stared at me with those olive colored eyes. Another voice – an older, female one – called out from somewhere inside the house. Draco couldn't understand the French, but the little boy turned around and replied in a shy voice. More footsteps made their way towards me, and then the door opened a little wider, revealing a tall, dark haired woman. When she saw me, she tilted her head slightly and warily greeted me in French.

"Hello," I repeated quietly, feeling confused and inferior with this language barrier.

"Oh, English?" she asked.

"Yes. I'm sorry; I don't know any French," I told her, wishing I did.

"It is all right," she responded kindly in a rather heavily accented English. "But, who are you? Did you want something?"

"Oh, yes. I'm…" I stumbled. Did my mother want me to use my name? She had used my given name a couple of times today, I remembered. But did she want these people to know our identities? I had to tell my sister, but until then, I decided I would put off releasing my name into the air. "I wanted to talk to Pavo. Is she home?"

Just then, a young girl walked into sight. Like the woman and boy, she had dark brown hair, but it had more of a wave. For a second, the image of another brown-haired girl flashed before my eyes, but then I blinked it away and focused back on this girl, whose darker hair wasn't nearly as frizzy or curly. Her skin was also extremely pale, even paler than my own, it seemed, but that might have been influenced by the outline of her dark hair. Inquisitive bright blue eyes that seemed frightfully familiar contracted as she spoke. Again, I didn't understand a word.

"He's here to see you, Pavo," the woman replied to my sister. My attention scurried back to her, trying to place that girl into my life: walking through the corridors of Hogwarts, seated at the table during dinner at the Manor, laughing and running across the grounds at home.

I just couldn't see it.

"Um, do I know you?" she inquired, approaching the doorway.

"Uh, not really," I admitted, frantically searching for an excuse that she would buy. Why would this girl agree to talk to a stranger? "But I need to talk to you about… about some things about school."

Her eyes lit up with understanding. "Are you…?"

"A wizard?" I completed with a small smile. She glanced at her mother, nodding.

"Come in," the older woman offered, opening the door wider.

"Actually, would it be all right if we just walked around outside?" I asked, thinking I would be more comfortable _not _surrounded by unfamiliar walls and items. At least the strange grounds still resembled the nature I was used to. Adoptive mother and daughter exchanged another glance before Pavo agreed and walked outside.

"So who are you again?" Pavo questioned, leaving a good deal of space between us.

"Actually, I'm not here to talk about Beauxbatons," I answered honestly, turning to face her as I stopped walking. Distrust seeped into her eyes and she backed away a bit. "I'm your brother."

Shock and confusion joined the distrust as she replied, "What? No. No, I have a brother."

"No, I mean I'm your _real _brother," I explained. Her eyes hardened, and I realized she was offended.

"First, Paul _is _my real brother. I don't even know you," she spat, placing her hands on her hips.

"I meant _biological._ We share the same blood," I told her, berating myself for not directing the conversation into a smooth course. It certainly wasn't turning out the way I imagined.

"Oh," she murmured, eyes softening with a bit of pain. "I… I just thought my biological parents were dead. I was told I was an orphan."

Silence settled between us, more awkward than I would have liked.

"Are you… you said you're a wizard, yeah?" she asked, twiddling her fingers.

"Yeah. I go to Hogwarts," I told her.

"What's your name?" she questioned.

"Oh! Draco, Draco Malfoy," I replied instinctively.

"Malfoy?" she repeated, evidently surprised. "I thought… All this time… I thought I was a Muggleborn."

My eyebrows contracted. I had never considered that before. But now that I did, that made sense. If I grew up with Muggles, I would probably think that, too. Then she crossed her arms over her chest in a protective stance.

"I'm sorry… I'm just… it's a lot of think about," she mumbled.

"It's okay. I understand," I reassured her, even though I was just starting to understand how much I really didn't. "I would… I would like to get to know you a bit though. Would that be all right?"

She looked uncomfortable, unsure, as she shifted her balance from foot to foot. "Sure. I mean, I guess. I do have a lot of questions. I just… I need to think."

"That's fine," I responded. I never expected myself to get so emotional, but I felt my eyes start to water as I studied my little sister. She looked so vulnerable, so young. What if my mother was wrong and she _was _in danger here?

"I'm staying nearby with my mother," I informed her. When she looked up sharply, I instantly understood the question in her eyes. "Our mother. I guess I'll stop by sometime tomorrow. Will you be home?"

"Uh, yeah, yeah," she answered, obviously still distracted and whirling at the very idea I had shoved in her face.

"Sorry," I murmured, shoving my hands in my pockets. "I didn't mean to intrude. I just wanted to meet you."

"No, it's okay. I… I think I should know these sorts of things," she responded, not sounding exactly sure. I couldn't blame her for that.

When we parted, it felt a bit awkward, but I was looking forward to talking to her again. To my sister.

I still couldn't get that thought through my mind.

_I have a little sister._

As I walked back towards the cabin where my mother and I were staying, I did so with a mind that felt so full that it was complete blank. I picked mindlessly at the leaves of the trees by my sides, ripping them all into tiny pieces. No doubt the path behind me was riddled with a littering of little green pieces.

Then, just when the cabin came into my sight, I noticed a strange sensation that clouded the air. It felt… polarized. Electric. Heavy. Something felt off.

Part of me desperately wanted to shake off the feeling and sink back into the bizarre state of mind I had been in previously, but another part of me simply couldn't do that.

Without even telling my feet to do so, my steps grew swifter and swifter until I broke into a full sprint. I threw the front door to the cabin open, praying to whoever would listen that I would just find my mother, jumping out of her skin at the unnecessary manner I barged in.

But I had no such luck.

"Dad?" I exclaimed, frozen with shock. Then I took in the scene. In slightly tattered and rather filthy robes, his long, blond hair dirty and ragged, framing his ghastly pale, almost sunken skin and grey eyes convulsing with twirls of dark emotions, my father stood in front of the old couch with his wand directed towards my cowering mother.

"Dad!" I repeated, my body instantly alarmed. My hand shot for my wand, but it wasn't there; it was tucked away in my bag. Panic swelled within me, but by that point in time my father had already turned his wand on me.

"Draco!" my mother shouted frantically, trying to lift herself to her knees. However, one quick kick from my father had her collapsing to the ground again. I startled at the action, shocked beyond belief to see my father hurt my mother; he had never done so much as slap her before. I stood perfectly still, not knowing what I should or could do.

"Draco," he spat, sending me a deathly look. "Have anything you wish to report to your father?"

"I…" I stuttered, utterly frightened and completely taken by surprise. What was happening? Was this real?

"How about the fact that you've been sleeping around with Mudblood whores?" he hissed. A burst of indignant anger pulled my shocked expression into a harden scowl.

"Don't call her that," I demanded in a low voice through clenched teeth.

"So it's true!" For a moment, my father looked horrified, disappointed, betrayed, like I had taken the most precious thing in his life and sliced it to pieces before squishing it into the ground. "After everything I taught you, after everything that's happened to our family, how could you stand the sight of such filth?"

"She's not filthy! She's good and kind and beautiful and wonderful and… and I love her, father!" I announced animatedly. "_You_ are what happened to this family; you and your blind loyalty to the Dark Lord!"

"You understand nothing!" he declared darkly, eyes narrowing. With my crying mother beneath him, the mad man before me didn't resemble my father at all. "Muggles hurt this family! Muggles tore us apart! The filthy, rotten Muggles without morals or ethics or any sort of sense of responsibility! They have no sense of justice, Draco. No sense of humanity. They are animals, not worthy of anything the world has to offer."

"What did Muggles ever do to you?" I shouted, wishing he didn't have his wand so I could do something more than scream words. I wanted to move, to attack, to escape.

"They ruined our lives! All of our hopes and dreams, everything that ever mattered!" he shouted. The very walls seemed to shake with the vibrations of his yelling; I know I did. I felt more frightened than I ever remembered feeling in my entire life.

"What are you talking about?" I asked, not understanding any of my father's reasoning at this point. Although I felt sure the man was going – or already had gone – utterly insane, I also got the sense that he actually believed what he was saying, that there was a logic – albeit twisted and black – behind his words. Why wasn't I getting it? From the way he spoke, he acted like I was supposed to know.

"Don't play the fool with me, Draco. Your little slut may come from Muggles, but that doesn't change what they did to your mother!" he spat nastily, glaring down with disgust at my mother, who actually looked ashamed. I wanted to jump out and protect her, but I had no idea how my father would react. "She told you, didn't she? About the _child_? Did she tell how she kept the abomination? Did she tell you how she's been watching over the filthy scum's spawn?"

"Don't talk that way about Pavo! She's my half sister, she's mum's; I know she's the result of a terrible event, but she's still a human being!" I yelled in my half-sister's defense. "You're the horrible one for expecting mum to kill her!"

"You expected me to raise that filth in my house, under my family's name, with my own son?" my father questioned, revulsion at the very prospect evident in his expression. "A constant reminder to me, to your mother, of the horror and the pain and the suffering?"

"But… I know, I know," I mumbled, horrified at the fact my parents, my mother, had to go through this at all. "But she's still half mum. She's one of us."

"You are mistaken, Draco," my father replied cruelly, eyes darker than ever. "Despite the Black blood running through that girl's veins, she will never be one of us. That despicable Muggle rapist took care of that."


	33. Of Fragile Emotions and Strange Dreams

**Disclaimer: Harry Potter isn't mine, AVPM isn't mine, Red Vines aren't mine, and the wonderful line from Legally Blonde isn't mine. Are you scared of this chapter yet?**

**A/N: I'M BACK! Hello, world! I'm so happy to be back writing again. I know it's been such a long time since I've updated this story in particular, so I really need to thank all my readers out there who have stuck with me during these rough times. Although I'm still not feeling the best and all, I'm hoping that the summer will allow me to write and update on a regular basis. I'm aiming for once a week!**

**If any of you are wondering, I'm estimating that we have twelve, maybe thirteen chapters left of this story. Maybe more, depending on how long the events I have planned end up being. After all, this chapter ended up being **_**much **_**longer than I originally planned!**

**And yes; the dream sequence in here is weird. As in, very strange and peculiar and none of it really follows any sort of logic at all. And it's **_**supposed **_**to be! Dreams are like that! They're random and nonsensical at times. Don't get mad at me about that part not making sense or fitting in with the rest of the story; it fits in by influencing Hermione's emotions, but the events don't actually take place because… well, because they're dreams. I can't explain them. Especially the first one.**

**Oh… and I don't expect a complete lack of anger towards me for what happens at the end of this chapter… but all I ask is that you trust me! And trust in the Dramione!**

**Anyway, any and all feedback is always appreciated! I can't tell you how much your support means to me!**

Everything seemed cloudy and heavy.

"… not sure, Harry," a soft, familiar voice said softly somewhere nearby. Slowly, I began to notice my surroundings. The comforting weight of a blanket pressed down on me, but nothing could distract me completely from the drumming ache in my head once my mind processed it. Without thinking, I moaned from the annoying pain. Why was I feeling so terrible?

Suddenly I was aware of movement in the room.

"Hermione?" the voice asked. Somewhere in my brain, I connected the voice to Ginny. "How are you feeling?"

"Ugh," I groaned, turning on my side despite the aching pain in my hips. It felt like I had slept for far too long on a rather uncomfortable surface. Grudgingly, I peeled open my eyes. Ginny's concerned expression hovered over me.

"How are you feeling?" she repeated.

"Not good," I admitted. "What happened?"

"You fell asleep next to Tonks on the couch last night," Harry reported, appearing from behind Ginny's shoulder. "She said you weren't feeling very well."

"I… I wasn't," I mumbled, rubbing both of my eyes. In flashes, the emotions flooding through me last night returned, piece by piece. Had I cried? For some reason I remembered tears. I remembered Ginny laughing, something about cake or frosting maybe. I remembered talking with Tonks.

I remembered Tonks was in love.

Then I remembered what I had figured out.

I remembered that _I_…

Tucking in my legs, I curled my body together tightly and moaned, sounding quite pitiful to my own ears but truly not caring at the moment.

"What's wrong, Hermione?" Ginny asked, her voice heavily laced with worry.

I remembered what it felt like when Draco held me in his arms. I remembered the sensations that his kiss sent shooting through me. I remembered the words he said that night, the pleading tone they were spoken in, the broken expression and eyes filled with disbelief and dismay at my response to them.

"Oh, no. No, no, no, no," I repeated to myself. I couldn't be in love with Dra-Malfoy. I couldn't! It was just a silly, stupid… experiment. I was simply lying to myself the entire time that I felt anything for that… that boy.

I couldn't even think of anything bad to call him.

Hadn't he mocked me endlessly at school? Insulted and bullied Ron and Harry and me?

_With an utter mess of a family life and no one else to turn to._

No! He wasn't a victim.

Was he?

So what? Even if maybe he was, even if he genuinely enjoyed spending time with me, that didn't mean that he… _loved _me. And that certainly didn't mean that I loved him! I didn't even know what love was. Except what my mum had told me about it and what Tonks had been talking about the night before.

But then again, my mum's story about my parents' love for each other always sounded like an intangible fairytale. And as for Tonks… well, whatever love she felt for whoever she felt it for certainly wasn't making her happy, now was it? In fact, she seemed more depressed than ever.

The stray thought entered my mind that I was feeling rather down myself, and maybe love sucked away all happiness.

But then I reminded myself that I wasn't _in love_. I couldn't be.

Could I?

"What is it?" Ginny questioned frantically, a hand gripping my shoulder gently.

"My head," I lied quickly. "Can your mum cast a Silencing Charm on our room? The noise hurts."

"Oh, yeah, of course. I'm sorry," Ginny gushed, hurrying out of the room to fetch her mother from downstairs. My eyelids fluttered shut as I released a sigh of what might have been relief. I wasn't sure though, because I really didn't feel relieved at all.

Not three seconds later, a whole lot sooner than I would have liked, I opened them again to see Ron and Harry. They both stood rather close by, but held themselves a tad awkwardly, as if they didn't know what to say or do.

"You okay, Hermione?" Harry asked, his eyebrows crunched together with worry. Everyone was worried about me, evidently.

"I don't know," I answered honestly. I couldn't actually tell my friends what was bothering me though. That would accomplish nothing and just cause more problems.

"Out, out," Mrs. Weasley demanded before Ron could spill the words stuck in his open mouth. She shooed the boys into the hall and shut the door, her gentle voice murmuring a swift spell before she rushed to my side and started asking questions in her motherly tone.

I didn't know why I replied the way I did, but I told her that I wasn't feeling good, that my head in particular was quite painful, and yes, I did think that some time alone and some more sleep might help, but no, I wasn't hungry or thirsty or anything.

None of those details were completely lies though; my head was spinning from all these thoughts, the very idea of eating or drinking made me nauseous, and all I wanted to do was curl up and slip back into sleep.

Two minutes later, Mrs. Weasley left, promising to send Ginny up to check on me in a few hours. Once I was alone, I turned around, wincing at the discomfort of moving my stiff joints. For a while I stared blankly at a faint spot on the wall next to my bed, wondering why I even thought that I could possibly fall asleep so soon after sleeping for what had to be over ten hours, especially with all these confusing thoughts.

But slowly, my eyelids grew heavy and my blinks lasted longer.

Soon, I was asleep again.

And this time, the dreams came.

_It was very bright, but only for a moment. Raising my arm, I blocked the light from attacking my eyes and tried to peer at the small group a way off who were lingering under the shade of a tree. For some reason, I felt like I needed to talk to one of them, or maybe all of them, but I didn't recognize them._

_Then I felt something lightly bump my shoulder. I twisted around, blinking rapidly as my eyes adjusted._

"—_schedule another practice sometime soon," Harry was saying, staring directly towards me. Was he talking to me? Shooting a glance behind me, I was about to respond when someone else did._

"_I thought it was going to rain?"_

_Suddenly Ron appeared to my left, and then we were walking. On the opposite side of both of the boys, the familiar stone walls of Hogwarts enclosed the three of us. _

"_I hope it doesn't rain," I heard myself answer. We approached another wall and turned the corner, heading towards the Great Hall for breakfast._

"_I thought you wanted it to rain?" Harry questioned, sending me a scathing look, like I had said something terribly offensive. And I had, I realized._

"_No! Oh, I'm so sorry, Harry," I told him, laying a hand on his arm. His scowl melted into a smile, and Ron appeared again and we were walking._

"_I hope they serve something delicious tonight," Ron commented, rubbing his stomach in anticipation. "I've been dying for some Red Vines."_

"_I really want some of those chocolate chip cookies, myself," Harry remarked, a wistful gleam in his eyes._

"_Chocolate is good for the soul," Professor Dumbledore added, nodding his head to himself. "It gives you endorphins, and endorphins make you happy! Happy people just don't kill their husbands."_

_Then the Headmaster was gone, and Harry was seriously discussing what the wise old man meant. _

"_To you suppose he wants us to bake chocolate chip cookies and send a care package to Voldemort?" he asked, eyebrows crunched closer together in thought._

"_Can't we just have the House Elves make them?" Ron whined. "I don't even know how to make chocolate chip cookies."_

"_I think I remember," replied Draco. Suddenly I became aware of the weight of his arm around my waist. I smiled up at him, and he smiled back._

"_All right, then Draco and Hermione will bake the chocolate chip cookies, Ron and Eric will gather the House Elves, and Ginny and I will go find some wrapping paper," Harry announced, glancing at each member of our circle as he distributed the assignments._

"_I wonder if the House Elves will have Red Vines," I heard Eric murmur softly before following Ron down to the kitchens. I shook my head in amusement before turning back to Draco._

"_Should we get going?" I suggested, tilting my heads towards the door just around the corner. Agreeing, Draco let his hand slip from my waist to find mine. Aw he linked our fingers together, I started to swing our joined arms gently._

"_Do you suppose the kitchens will have everything we need for chocolate chip cookies?" Draco asked, his voice suddenly gripped with urgency. My own eyes widened as I realized that this would be a huge dilemma. What would we do if they didn't have chocolate chips? Harry would be so furious, so disappointed in me._

_Then I calmed down, remembering that this was Hogwarts._

"_Do be silly, Draco," I replied kindly. "Of course they'll have everything."_

_Suddenly we were in front of the painting of the bowl of fruit. But before I could even reach up to tickle the pear, it swung open. Without a second thought, we walked inside and were immediately surrounded by gigantic stacks of shelves lined with every food item imaginable and then some._

"_We'll need a hundred of those bags of flour," Draco declared, gesturing towards a pile on the right._

"_Right away," squeaked Colin Creevey after having appeared out of nowhere. He quickly scrambled up a ladder and started throwing bag after bag to another boy who I didn't recognize. As he caught each heavy bag, a huffy breath burst from his throat._

"_And some sugar, right, Mia?" Draco said, sending me a loving look._

"_Well, yes, but how many cookies are we making?" I questioned. After all, that was a lot of flour._

"_Enough for all the people we invited, of course," the blond answered, swiftly guiding us down another aisle, this one refrigerated. Mounds of eggs and butter and milk scattered on both sides of us._

"_Invited to what?" I wrinkled up my nose, not recalling any of this. Something in the back of my brain whispered that these cookies were for Voldemort, but I immediately dismissed that. Why would anyone make chocolate chip cookies for Voldemort?_

"_Our wedding, of course," he answered, bringing his hand up to cup my cheek. "Are you feeling all right, sweetheart?"_

"_Oh, yes, I feel fine," I answered, at once remembering everything. "Absolutely perfect."_

"_Good. We wouldn't want you to fall ill, now would we?" Draco remarked as he stirred a small bowl full of batter. "Add the vanilla, would you, Mia?"_

"_Why are you calling me Mia, Draco?" I asked even as I measured out a teaspoon of the brown liquid. "You know I hate that nickname."_

"_I found the Red Vines!" he suddenly exclaimed, ignoring my question. But all of a sudden, my question didn't matter anymore, because we had found the object of our search. I quickly threw my arms around him in a celebratory hug._

"_Hurry, tell Harry!" I shouted, spinning around the run out of the winding columns of food and back to the Great Hall, dragging the blond Slytherin behind me by the hand._

"_Hermione!" Ron called loudly, somewhere in front of me._

"_Ron! Ron, Draco found the Red Vines!" I told him, excitement and relief flooding within me._

"_He did? Harry, Draco found them!" Ron echoed. Suddenly both of the boys were sprinting towards us. When they reached Draco, the three shared a group man hug. Whatever that was._

"_Now we can finally defeat Voldemort!" Harry cried, a broad grin spread across his face._

"_Where's Ginny?" I inquired, remembering that she had been with Harry before._

"_Oh, she's at St. Mungo's," Harry informed us._

"_Fleur is in labor," Ron added._

"_Oh, how exciting!" I remarked, clapping my hands together. "Can we go visit?"_

"_We can bring the chocolate chip cookies we made," Draco suggested. "Oh, and I could draw them a picture of me finding the Red Vines!"_

"_An excellent idea, Draco," Dumbledore commented with approval, his all-knowing eyes sparkling behind those half-moon glasses of his._

"_Let's go," Emily urged, linking her arm through mine._

_And away we skipped, humming as we went down the corridors of Hogwarts._

_Then everything faded to black, and for a while, there was nothing._

_I felt so peaceful. I loved the sensation of Draco's hand in mine, his thumb softly skimming over the sensitive skin of my palm. With my head strewn across his chest, the rise and fall of each of his breaths created a blueprint for my own pattern._

"_I love you, you know," I told him gently as I stared up at the swirling white clouds above our heads. It was a beautiful day outside and between the grass of the meadow beneath us and the warmth of the sun above us, I felt entirely content. _

"_I know you do," he answered quietly, taking me by surprise. I lifted my head up to look at him directly._

"_You do?" I asked, searching his eyes for sincerity._

"_Of course," he replied, a gentle smile transforming his face. "I've always known."_

"_Even when I got so upset and broke up with you?" I asked, hoping but doubting that he would say yes. I certainly didn't feel like I had been loving him then, something I was ridiculously mad at myself about. I could never imagine doing that to him. He was my everything._

"_That was just a bump in the road. I've known ever since that night when you found me at the park and invited me for ice cream," he answered, his gaze glazing over with the sheen of memories._

"_That's when I started to love you?" I questioned with wonder and surprise, not even having realized it myself._

"_That's when I started feeling it," he whispered in my ear._

_I looked back up at the clouds and smiled. While I stared up there, wishing to remain right there for the rest of eternity, something peculiar happened. Slowly the fluffy edges of one of the clouds expanded, becoming larger and larger and larger… until suddenly the whiteness swallowed me up whole._

_A spinning sensation gripped my stomach, making me feel slightly nauseous. Gradually, the twisting slowed, for which I was extremely grateful. Once the world finally stood still again, I looked around and recognized the distinctive stone pattern of the walls._

_I was back in Hogwarts._

"_My home away from home," I murmured fondly under my breath._

"_You don't belong here, Mudblood," a cold voice snapped. Spinning myself around so fast I almost felt sick again, I found myself facing Theodore Nott and Pansy Parkinson._

"_I have every right to be here," I replied indignantly, straightening my spine to stand proudly._

"_Like hell you do," Parkinson sniped nastily, her lips curling into a scowl as she glared at me._

"_You're filthy and undeserving of magic," Vincent Crabbe added, speaking with a severity and a venom I had never heard before from his mouth. Then again, I couldn't recall hearing him speak much._

_Before I could retort, Crabbe's face melted and morphed into that of Gregory Goyle, though the piercing glare of hatred remained the same._

"_You are beneath us, you scum," Goyle declared. "You will never be accepted."_

_And then face after face of Slytherins appeared, forming a crowded mob. Each and every one of them were staring at me with disgusted expressions. Together, they pushed closer and closer, forcing me back into the wall. I started to panic, but then I felt the wall fall away._

"_These walls change things, Granger," a voice behind me whispered. A voice I recognized. I turned around, only casually noting how the gathering of Slytherins disappeared entirely._

"_Draco." I sighed in relief, so happy to see his face again._

_Except he didn't seem happy to see me._

"_Draco, what's wrong?" I asked, eyebrows furrowing together as I studied the hardened expression on his face, complete with a disapproving frown and eyes that shined with distain._

"_Don't call me that, Granger," he growled, his glaring gaze meeting mine with an intensity that chilled me through to the bone._

"_What?" I couldn't understand. What was going on? Why was he looking at me like that? "Why not? Draco…"_

"_Don't pretend that we're friends, Granger," he drawled. "We both know better than that."_

"_Friends? Draco, I thought you loved me?" I replied, the confusion twisting horribly with dread and fear. He scoffed._

"_I hated you then, and I hate you now," he spat, the look in his eyes supporting his words. I reeled back as if he had physically punched me. Even a physical blow wouldn't have caused me this pain though. Everywhere, from my stomach to my cheeks, burned with a searing pain._

"_I'm a pureblood, Granger," he hissed, throwing his arms out to grab the fabric of my shirt at my shoulders. "Why would I fall in love with you?"_

"_You… you said you did," I mumbled, completely taken aback by the fierceness of his expression and his close proximity._

"_Are you deaf, Granger?" he shouted into my face. Instinctively, I curled into myself, feeling both confused and afraid._

"_Aw, are you scared?" he taunted, his scowl curling into a smirk. "Whatever happened to the little Gryffindor's bravery?"_

_This wasn't the Draco Malfoy I though I knew. Even at school, he had never been so… cruel._

"_Why are you acting like this?" I whispered, turning my head to the side to look away from him. Except a bruising hold of my chin forced me to look back at him._

"_Because evidently you need to learn to stop dreaming," he growled._

_Suddenly the grip on my face released me, and he turned around._

"_I could never love such a worthless Mudblood."_

_Watching as he stormed away, I slowly sank to the ground, not on purpose, but because my legs could no longer sustain me. I felt limp and lifeless. My knees bit into the stone floor of the corridor, but I could barely register the pressure._

_Just when his figure was about to turn the corner, the overwhelming desire to scream out his name, beg him to come back swept over me, and I opened my mouth. But a heavy weight was stuck in my throat, and nothing except a pathetic whine escaped through my lips._

_And then he was gone._

_If I thought I was lifeless before, I definitely was then._

_Without controlling my actions, I collapsed completely to the floor, resting my head on my crossed forearms that pressed into the cold stone. My shoulders heaved and body jerked for many minutes before I realized that I was sobbing. The noise that my throat finally allowed to leave my mouth echoed off the walls to slam back into me, reminding me again of the pain that had completely taken over me._

"Hermione? Hermione, are you okay?"

Scenes flashed before my eyes, but all I could remember was pain, searing pain the seemed to stem from my very being. I could feel my body racking with sobs, feel the wetness of half my face, hear the horrible sound of what couldn't possibly be just me crying. Two strong arms lifted the top half of me by the upper arms, wrapping themselves around my waist as I was placed back down at an angle, like I was laying on something. A second later, I somewhere identified it as a human being, the chest of a human being.

"What's wrong, Hermione?" the voice asked, so soft, so gentle, so kind. It hurt to hear the kindness, because that was all I wanted from… from someone else. I couldn't remember who. I couldn't even remember why I was crying. All I knew was that I was broken, and nothing would ever fix me.

In desperation, I rose my hands to wrap them around the neck of the person who held me. Gripping around him tightly, I suddenly registered the voice as Ron's. Sweet, caring Ron. I sobbed more violently as the memory of who I wanted him to be resurfaced.

My fingers brushed by his hair, and I knew it was red hair and not blond. Still, I weaved between the strands tightly, eager for the physical comfort. I pushed my face into his chest, hoping the pain would die away as he held me, despite the fact that it just seemed to get worse and worse with every passing thought.

Instead the soft but worn material of his shirt left my cheek, and his face descended a bit. He whispered a few comforting words in my ear, but my brain couldn't even completely understand them. Then I felt his lips press against the skin right in front of my ear, then again on the side of my face by my eye. After a second, I felt them again on the middle of my forehead, and I cried harder.

As if in an effort to stop my tears, the kisses came faster and faster as I sobbed louder and louder. They peppered down my nose, beneath my eyes, and across my cheeks. Before I even realized what was happening, they reached my lips.

Part of knew that those were Ron's lips that were pushing ever so lightly against my own, but at the very contact, I seemed to burst into life. I seized the physical comfort of the feeling, imagining that those lips were Draco's. My arms tightened around his neck as I leaned forward against him. I barely registered the slight stiffening of his surprise as I continued to kiss him. But when he didn't respond the way I knew Draco would respond, my body went limp again and I closed my eyes and cried.

This time, the crying was silent.

Those hands I knew were Ron's rubbed soothing circles across my back, but my mind was so completely empty, so completely void, that I didn't even move. Gradually, my breathing steadied. Ron must have thought I fell back asleep, because the contact broke and I heard his footsteps as he left the room.

Even then, my brain was so entirely drained that I hadn't even started to consider the consequences of what I'd just done.


	34. Of Magical Duels and Empty Eyes

**Disclaimer: None of the Malfoy family belong to me – well, except for Pavo, who is technically only half-Malfoy. Alas, Lucius, Narcissa, and Draco all belong to JKR. And that's all I need to disclaim for this chapter! And, of course, the spells and world they live in and fact that they're witches and wizards and some other things and people they refer to that exist in JKR's world…**

**A/N: I'm so sorry, everyone! I didn't plan on waiting so long to update, but I hit a bit of a writing block on this chapter. I knew exactly what I wanted to happen, but every time I wrote it, it didn't seem right, and as you'll find out while you read, this chapter is EXTREMELY important and will change almost everything for one of our dear characters, so I wanted it to be perfect.**

**And this is as close as it's going to be.**

**Anyway, I hope you enjoy the chapter, and even though I've started school already, I hope that there won't be any more long breaks between updates. I also have lots of new fic ideas (one more thing that took away time from this story) that I hope to post soon. As a matter of fact, I have a poll on my profile that I'd LOVE for you to vote in! Tell me what multichapter Dramione you'd like to see from me next!**

**As always, any and all feedback is loved and adored!**

* * *

It shouldn't have made a difference, but it did.

My half-sister was half Muggle.

Without my permission, my mind almost instinctively curled inward with revulsion. Then I started, physically stumbling backwards, shocked at myself and sorely disappointed that the thought had even gone through my mind.

Though evidently my father assumed that I had reacted to his revelation.

"Do you understand now, Draco?" he sneered, sending another glare towards my mother. "Do you understand why that _thing _didn't deserve to live?"

"That _thing _is my sister," I ground out, teeth clenched together. "I don't care what's in her blood; that doesn't change anything at all."

Immediately the air rang with energy, my father's fury rolling off of his body in waves, even as he stood staring at me in silence.

"You are no son of mine."

Nothing seemed to move. I couldn't even hear my own breathing or the pounding of my heart. Everything was in a haze as the man who only slightly resembled my father turned to my mother, still strewn across the floor, vulnerable, aching, and hurt.

"I have no family."

I watched as my mother's face collapsed, tears slipping from her eyes. Still frozen, my gaze snapped with a jerk back to the man in front of me, then slowing sliding to the wand in his hand aimed directly towards the helpless woman on the floor. My hand ached to do something, to act, but my wand was still in my bag, leaning against the couch a few meters away.

If only I had taken my wand with me. What kind of wizard was I, not carrying my wand around on my person?

"Lucius…" my mother whispered hoarsely, grief etching deep lines across her face as she reached out her right hand. "Lucius, I…"

"You have betrayed me, Narcissa."

Something horrible was about to happen. Never before had I heard anyone speak with such a hard, cold tone. Never before had I felt this paralyzing fear that seemed to penetrate every bone in my body.

"How long?" he asked, his voice lowering considerably. I couldn't see his face, but my mother opened her mouth, then slowly closed it against, her head falling slightly to look at the floor.

"_How long?_"

As if the shout had unfrozen everything, my body shook, jumping backwards as I saw my mother cringe. Even a few seconds later, his words echoed through the room, bouncing off the walls and inside my ears.

"I… since the beginning," my mother said softly, the words just as broken as she looked.

A chilling stone-cold silence swept over the room, rushing a prickling sensation down my spine and making my hair stand on end. I wanted to keep my eyes on my father and mother, thinking somehow that if I didn't look away, he wouldn't hurt her. But something kept pulling my gaze over to my bag, focusing my thoughts on the wand slipped inside, the wand that could even things out and challenge my father's power.

"Where is she?" The words ground from my father's sharp tongue as rock against bone, making my body instinctively flinch. Fear almost tangibly tainted the taste of the air as I stared at my mother in silence, mentally pleading with her not to tell. Merlin only knew what he planned on doing to Pavo if he found her, but torture and pain were probably only the beginning.

"_Where is the girl?_" my father shouted. My arms wrapped around my torso, but I still shook my head towards my mother, despite the fact that she wasn't even looking at me; her gaze seemed stuck to the looming figure of my father.

Something peculiar happened at that moment, when I was staring at my mother's eyes, hoping she wouldn't cave in and reveal Pavo's location. An emotion twisted within those swirls of blue that I hadn't seen in a long time.

"You won't find her, Lucius."

The words came out softly, and though they quivered slightly, they still managed to stiffen my father's body.

"I won't tell you where she is," my mother asserted. This time, there was no wavering in her voice. Her mouth was set in firm line, that gleam of determination I had seen before shining even brighter from within her eyes.

"You _will_ tell me, Narcissa," he spat through clenched teeth. "You will tell me _now_."

"You are mistaken, Lucius," she replied, sitting up slightly as she lifted her head. "You will never find her, and you will never harm her."

"Who said anything about harming her?" my father said in a dangerously calm voice.

"Don't play games with m—"

"_I'm_ playing games? You've been lying to me for thirteen years!"

"You asked me to _kill _my child! My only daughter!" Tears formed in my mother's eyes, but her body seemed to gain physical strength from the strong emotions. Reaching up her hand, she gripped the leg of the small table next to her and lifted herself to a standing position.

"I wanted you to _fix _the problem so everything could return to norma—"

"_Fix the problem? _Lucius, I know… I know how terrible it was for you then, but _I _was the one who was attacked, violated, and forced to create my last child with a vicious monster I hated with every fiber of my being." Streaks of water now ran down my mother's face as she spoke, but her voice remained strong. "My last child, Lucius. I _wanted _her to be with you, more than anything else in the world."

Biting her lip, she stretched out her arm and let her fingers trace the hollow of my father's cheek – one of the countless physical signs of his stay in Azkaban.

"But she _was _my last child, Lucius, and my only girl. I couldn't kill her," my mother told him firmly. Her lips dropped into a sad frown for a few moments before they returned to a stern straight line. "I just couldn't."

Slipping my eyes closed for a fraction of a second, I hoped that those words successfully softened my father's heart, that the two of them would collapse together in each other's embrace, their arms providing cradles of comfort as they mourned the loss of nonexistent children and finally began the healing process of a fourteen year old wound. I prayed that the love my mother professed to be between them would be strong enough to guide my father to understanding, that out of his love for her he would forget his own pain and suffering to at last see the burden she'd been living with for so long.

For a few precious seconds, it seemed as if everything was going to be okay. Maybe even better than okay.

Apprehensive about what I would see, I opened my eyes again, wishing I could see the expression written across my father's face at that moment.

Instead, I only heard his words: quiet and cold.

"And that's when you chose her over me."

All at once, my father spun away from my mother's touch, my mother shattered before me again, her mouth forming my father's name without sound, and I berated myself for ever daring to dream about happy endings. However, I didn't have long to dwell on the thought, because then my father stormed towards me, forcibly grabbing my left arm and dragging my in front of him. Startled by the turn of events, my mind still spinning after all the sudden movement after being frozen for so long, the shock that sank into my soul as my father pointed his wand at my head seeped every once of will from within me.

"Lucius!" my mother cried, lurching forward with a panicked expression marring her tear-streaked face. In retaliation, my father's wand pressed into the skin above my ear, stilling her movement immediately.

"Tell me where she is so I can finish the job you failed to complete thirteen years ago."

"Lucius, Draco is your son…" my mother pleaded, grief and pain etching lines into her face.

"And do you value him more than the daughter of a Muggle?" my father asked, revealing his intention in holding me captive. With this realization, a spark of life seemed to return to me, and I struggled to escape my father's grasp.

"Let go of me!" I demanded, but my demands fell on deaf ears. Instead, an unspoken spell streamed rope from the tip of my father's wand and wrapped it tightly around my ankles and torso.

"She is _my_ daughter, Lucius!" my mother stressed fervently.

"She is a plague on this family! Look how she has torn us apart!"

"No, she's not; you are!" I exclaimed, turning my face to glare darkly at my father – or the remnant of my father. Even looking at him directly reminded me how different this man was from the one I once knew. His face was sunken, the skin a pale and dirty grey. His hair, long as usual, was filthy and tattered in knots, hanging limply over his ragged and torn clothing. Most of all, there was a shadow within his eyes, a darkness that added a sense of crazed cruelty.

"Be quiet, Draco!" my father commanded sternly. "This doesn't concern you."

"I have a wand to my head," I snarked back, "it concerns me."

"Draco is right, Lucius. _You _are the one tearing apart this family," my mother said, her eyes piercing his own with a steely hardness. "You and your acti—"

"Me? How is this _my _fault?" my father retorted coldly. "_Her_ existence forced you to lie to me, knowledge of _her_ has tainted our son's good judgment, _that Mudblood is the problem!_"

"_She is a Black for Merlin's sake!_" my mother screamed, clenching her fists tightly. "She is _not _a Mudblood."

"She is only half-Black, Narci—"

"Who cares if she's half-Muggle?" I asked, furious at my father implication that my dating Hermione had something to do with learning that I had a half-Muggle half-sister. I'd only learned about Pavo's blood status a matter of minutes ago, for crying out loud! And I'd only known of her mere existence a few days ago. "Why does that even matter?"

I really shouldn't have been surprised at my parents' response, but both the disappointed, condescending look from my father and the shocked, repulsed stare from my mother hit me hard.

"_Blood _is important, Draco," my father replied in that usual authoritative tone of his that he always used when teaching me what he thought I should've already known. "It defines us, determining portions of our destinies before we are even born.

"But enough of this," my father declared, turning his face back towards my mother and away from me. "Draco and I can talk later. Right now, you're going to tell me where that nasty little vermin is."

"Lucius, you can't make me chose between my children!" my mother exclaimed, her eyes shifting and earning a somewhat wild glaze.

"Now, Narcissa," my father demanded in a low voice.

"No!" she shouted firmly. Then her arm waved through the air, a jet of blue light streaming from the wand she held in her hand. Instinctively my father protected himself, shooting up a magical shield just in time. Forcefully throwing me out of the way, he focused all his attention on the woman in front of him. Breaking my fall to the floor with my hands, I quickly flipped myself over and scooted backwards. My parents stared in at each other in silence for a moment.

No words were spoken, but the room suddenly filled with the loud sounds of magic pulsing through the air as my mother cast another curse, spun to avoid my father's retaliatory hex, and shot another spell across the room.

Half crawling, I took refuge behind the couch, immediately reaching for my bag and seeking for my wand. As my parents' duel increased in intensity, I grew frustrated and poured the contents onto the floor. Searching through the mess, I only noticed when I heard the distinct noise of wood rolling across wood that I had unintentionally tossed my wand aside as well. Diving after it, three of my fingers wrapped around it just as it started to roll underneath the couch.

Finally with my wand in my grip, I was able to breathe. A sort of welcoming greeting spread from my wand to my hand, traveling through my body. Instantly, I felt much safer. At least I could protect myself.

Leaning against the back of the couch, I took a few deep breaths before peering around the side to assess the situation. Both of my parents wore determined, slightly crazed expressions as they ducked, twisted, and lunged towards each other, different colored lights constantly emerging from each of their wands.

Swinging my head from side to side, I tried to figure out how to stop this, how to fix it. Short of freezing both of my parents – something I wasn't sure I could manage without giving one time to prepare for my attack – or bringing down the entire house, I didn't know what would make them listen to me. The idea of jumping out into the line of fire passed through my mind, but another glance at the wild expressions on both of their faces made me doubt whether that would even work.

Suddenly one glass lamps next to my mother shattered in a purple and white explosion. She thrust up her hands instinctively to protect her face, and my father cast another curse, this time aimed right for her. On contact, the yellow light seemed to surround my mother's body like a second skin. Her expression morphed one of panic and pain, grotesquely scrunched and stretched at the same time.

"Mum!" I screamed, jumping out from behind the couch. Before I got far, my father sent a full-body binding curse towards me. When it hit my arm, the tremors immediately spread throughout my whole body and suddenly I was flat on the floor, unable to move or speak. All I could do was watch as my father approached my unmoving mother. Although I didn't recognize the spell, I knew she wasn't dead, but I had no idea what my father was going to do next. When he stretched out his arm and pointed his wand towards her head, a whirlwind of emotions slammed into me, begging to be release through some sort of scream or shout or plead.

"_Imperio_."

Almost gently, the spell snaked over her, and after a long stretch of time that seemed to span eternity but probably lasted less than a minute in reality (though reality seemed to have been suspended over the past few days of my life) while my mother struggled to find against the magic, my father cast another spell that released my mother from the earlier spell that had held her captive. Her expression returned to almost normal, except for the fact that her eyes looked empty and blank.

"Get up," my father commanded in a cold, detached tone. Two seconds later, my mother was standing, swaying ever so slightly.

"Take me to the girl."

Nothing happened at first. My mother stayed rooted in place, no doubt fighting with every fiber of her being against the magic that compelled her to obey him. But then, after only a matter of seconds, she took a step forward, towards the door.

I wanted to scream for her to stop, but I still couldn't move. Fighting with all my strength against the magic holding me captive, I knew that somewhere within me was the potential to perform wandless magic by will. But such magic was very difficult to control, and even some of the most advanced witches and wizards had troubles performing it. Then I realized that my wand was still wrapped inside my fingers. With my wand, all I needed was the spell! Although we hadn't studied it yet in school, unspoken magic – while advanced – wasn't nearly as hard. Nearly every witch or wizard eventually mastered the skill. All I needed was one counter curse.

With great effort, I managed to relax and empty my mind. I pushed away the fear, the panic, the confusion, ignored the whispers of my brain, the footsteps of my mother as she walked further and further away from me and those of my father as he followed. Then I thought the words of the counter curse and willed for the spell to work.

It didn't.

Despair started to pull at my thoughts, but I stubbornly pushed it away. Instead of focusing so much on the spell itself, I decided to focus on the power that I needed to drive that spell. Searching for that power within me, I broke concentration when the door to the cabin opened, signaling that my parents were now outside.

_And so much closer to Pavo._

With more fervor than before, I concentrated on finding that magical power I knew rested inside me, waiting to be tapped. Suddenly I felt something – the slightly sensation of warmth and strength. Focusing on that feeling, I tried to pour everything I was into the growth and expansion of that power. Almost immediately, a rush swept through me. Knowing it was the perfect time, I thought of the counter curse that would release me.

The spell washed over me, returning my control over my limbs. My arms and legs felt strangely stiff, my eyes a bit dry, but a few seconds of stretching and multiple blinks quickly fixed that. Not forgetting the urgency of the situation, I jumped to my feet and ran out the door, sprinting down the path that I knew led to the house where Pavo lived, my wand firmly grasped in my hand.

It wasn't long before my parents came into view, my father steadily following my slowly walking mother.

"Dad! Mum!" I cried out, hoping against hope that I could still somehow stop this madness. My addled mind didn't have time to even attempt to develop a plan, but one thing I did know was that this time I wasn't going to let my father keep me from talking.

"Leave, Draco," my father commanded, spinning around to face me, the light surprise melting off of his expression quite quickly.

"No."

I barely processed the stream of red light headed towards me in time to produce a protective shield, but barely was enough. The look of fury covering my father's face at my reaction still frightened me though.

"Dad, why are you doing this?" I asked, shaking my head back and forth.

"You are young, Draco, you couldn't possibly understand," he spat dismissively.

"Mum will never forgive you if you do this!"

"She will come to see that I did it for all of us," he replied confidently.

"Dad, if you kill her daughter, she will _never _forgive you," I repeated in a firm, cold tone. He stared at me, those grey, twisted eyes still shining with that crazed gleam.

"Then she is not the person I thought she was," my father answered darkly, "and I do not need her forgiveness or approval.

"Go home, Draco," he commanded, spinning on his heel to return to my mother, who had stopped when I first called out to them. "Take me to the girl."

But my mother didn't move.

"Take me to the girl!"

But my mother still didn't move.

Instead, she kept staring at my father. Although I was quite the ways away, I noted that those eyes that had looked so blank back in the cabin seemed to have regained some of their prior emotion.

"No," she whispered in a harsh, determined voice. A thrilling sensation ran down my spine: she had managed to fight off the Imperius Curse at last.

"Then you chose the life of that bastard child over your own?" my father ground out, the anger rolling off of his body in waves of magical energy.

My mother seemed to physically quake at the idea for a moment, but then her lips formed that thin line, and she mumbled, "Yes."

Explosions of purple and green shot from my father's wand, hitting the ground and nearby bushes to leave them charred. With this left hand, he reached out and grabbed my mother around the neck, pushing his face close to her own.

"I will find her, Narcissa," he promised in a low, cruel voice that I could barely hear. Alerted by that frightened expression on my mother's face, I took a few steps forward and could make out my father's next words better. "She will still die. But now, so will you."

"No!" I shouted, casting a curse towards my father. But the spell bounced off a protective shield without my father so much as glancing at me.

"You have betrayed me for the last time, Narcissa."

"Dad!" I shouted loudly, sprinting towards them. As I watched, my father pulled his arm and pointed his wand directly at my mother's chest.

My eyes met hers, and I was more than surprised when I saw the calm acceptance within them; I was upset. Why wasn't she doing anything? Why wasn't she…?

"_Avada Kedavra_."

A flash of green light, and those eyes went blank again.


End file.
